Cullen Crusaders
by winterhorses
Summary: Bella gets fed up with the harassment of celebrities and forms an anti-paparazzi squad. In her quest to fight injustice, she makes both friends and enemies...and catches the attention of one celeb, in particular. Too bad he's already been caught by someone else. AH.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

It happened the first time because of LA traffic.

Rose, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Jake, and I had just come back from a Winter Break trip at my mom's place in Florida. It might have seemed kind of silly that we were trading sun and sand on one side of the continent for the same thing on the other, but most of my friends had never been to the East Coast. We hit a lot of theme parks, and hanging with my mom was always a riot no matter where you were.

That woman was pretty much certifiable.

Alice's sister had planned to pick us up from LAX an hour earlier, but a car accident along her route caused a delay. She had at least thirty minutes still to drive, and traffic was slow. Naturally, we grumbled at the news. We were all sick of traveling and couldn't wait to be back on campus.

Since it was 52 degrees outside—chilly by LA standards—we decided to wait in the building. I stared out the windows, Rose checked her Facebook feed, and the rest of the gang were involved in a discussion over investing money, or something like that. I caught only a few words here and there as I absently watched people get in and out of cars.

At one point, I saw a guy with a black shoulder bag push off from his resting spot along the wall and hurry toward the terminal's entrance doors. He looked like a man on an important mission. When an expensive-looking camera came out of his bag, I figured out pretty easily who he was— _what_ he was.

A paparazzo.

I couldn't help the sound of disgust that came out of my mouth. In my opinion, those "photographers" were no better than disease-ridden vermin that needed to be squashed under a very large shoe. I hated how they swarmed around celebrities and harassed them to the point of creating dangerous situations. It drove me crazy that they practically had free rein to do whatever the hell they wanted to get their shots.

The paparazzo rushed by us and toward one of the security gates. He was soon followed by photogs. Like roaches, they crawled out of the woodwork and scurried across the floor. The eager, hungry expressions on their faces made me feel almost violent.

"I wonder whose life they're going to make miserable today," Rose said, glancing up from her phone. She shook her head sadly. "I wish there was a way to stop those assholes."

"Yeah," Emmett chimed in. "It sucks that they're allowed to get in other people's faces like that. What the celebs need is a good defensive line to keep those fuckers back." He paused and then snorted. "Or maybe some of those tree-huggers who chain their hands together in front of the logging machines."

A fun thought entered my mind.

"Or, what about a bunch of friends with nothing better to do...like us?"

* * *

 **What? A new story when I've got other WIPs going? I know, I know, but I need an occasional break from the angst! I figure a light, fluffy fic is a good way to keep me sane and motivated to write the more emotional stuff. Yes, I'm talking about you, The Fence.**

 **Expect short chapters of around 1000 words and updates MWF. Here we go!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

"You wanna take down the paps? Well, me and Em _are_ pretty scary," Jake laughed. "And then there's Rose…"

The tall blonde in question looked down her nose and graced us with her haughtiest sneer. "That's right, bitches. Respect the crazy."

"Don't forget Bella and me," said Alice with a mischievous smile. "We can squeeze through the mob and trip them up. Or elbow them in the nuts."

"That's my girl." Jasper squeezed an arm around her waist. "I guess I'll have to be the brains behind the operation, or maybe the guy with all the cool tech toys. Stun guns, anyone?"

Everyone laughed except me.

"I'm serious! Wouldn't it feel so good to mess up their day? We can ruin their shots and get in the way when they chase after their victims. Em, I love your tree-hugging idea. We could make a human barricade to keep them back."

"Sure, Bells, sounds good." Emmett patted me on the shoulder with one of his massive, football-grabbing hands. Then he turned to Jake. "Like I was sayin', man, start a whole life insurance plan while you're still young and healthy. Then, when you get married and have kids—"

Everyone else went back to their previous activities, as well, but I wasn't giving up that easily.

"I guess I'll go fuck with some paparazzi by myself," I announced to the group. "Watch my luggage, and text me when Cynthia gets here."

"Whoa, hey…hold on a sec." Jake caught my wrist as I walked by. "You're _serious_ serious? I don't know if that's such a good idea, B. You could get in trouble or hurt…"

"If you're so worried, maybe you should come along," I huffed, snatching my arm back. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some paps to piss off."

"Aw, hell, count me in," Em said. He squeezed his girlfriend's knee. "What about you, babe?"

Rosalie shut off her phone and tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans. "Sure, why not?"

"Sweet!" Alice hopped up from the bench she was sitting on. "I guess you get to watch the luggage, Jakey-boy."

"Hell no! Jas can do it. I'm way more of an action guy than he is."

Jasper shrugged his shoulders. "You speaketh Truth. I'll sit here on Suitcase Mountain and keep a look out for Cynthia's stylin' beast."

"Quit ragging on Big Blue." Alice swatted Jasper on the arm. "Chevy made killer vans back in the '90s."

A few more paparazzi hurried by, and I started feeling twitchy. "Come on, kids, we need to get there and see what we're up against."

The five of us left Jasper and followed two young-looking guys with their cameras in hand. It was easy to tell where they were going. At the exit to one of the security gates, at least thirty paparazzi milled about, checking their equipment and jostling for a good position.

Emmett let out a low whistle.

"Looks like somebody interesting's gonna come out. That's an impressive number of vultures."

"Oh! Maybe I can get an autograph!"

I gave Alice a withering glare. She had the decency to look ashamed.

Jake cracked his knuckles and stretched out his arms in a dramatic fashion. "So, Boss Lady, what's the plan? Man-to-man, zone…chaos and destruction?"

I looked over the mob and imagined the upcoming scene.

"I'll take 'All of the Above' for 800, Alex," I said at last. "I think we should try to push our way to the front, make a line, and act like a cowcatcher on a train. Emmett'll take point with me and Rose on one side, Jake and Alice on the other. We'll wave our hands in front of as many cameras as we can and try to block the celeb from view." I glance at Alice and grin. "Well, unless the celeb is Mini Me, the tall people will have to do most of the blocking. When we get out to the person's car, we'll start the chaos part…but maybe no destruction. I'm not trying to get us arrested or sued or anything."

"Well, whoever it turns out to be, I hope the person hurries up," said Rose. "We don't have all day." She sounded bored and apathetic, but I knew that when the action started, she'd be the fiercest of us all.

"I think your wish is about to be granted." Alice bounced up on her toes, trying to see over the crowd. "The natives are getting restless, and here comes some security guys."

Sure enough, two uniformed guards moved into a ready position at the gate exit. The paps rushed toward them as a huge guy in a dark polo shirt stepped through the opening.

And then the world went white.

"Holy shit!" Alice exclaimed, squinting against the lightning storm of flashes. Though she was talking loudly, we could hardly hear her over the near-constant sound of shutters clicking.

"Come on, bitches! Are we doing this or not?"

Just as I'd suspected, it was Rosalie who led the charge into the fray. Elbows swinging, she surged into the writhing mass of human scum and was soon swallowed up by bodies.

"I'm comin', babe!" Emmett hollered happily. He plowed in behind her, creating a path where there previously hadn't been one.

I smiled darkly.

It was show time.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for the great response! :^)**

 **I have a feeling I'll be posting one over the weekend, as well. I have zero willpower when I'm sitting on finished chapters! I don't know how the other writers do it, lol.**

 **Note : Earlier this year, Delta Airlines started up a VIP service at LAX that drives you directly from the airplane (in a Porsche!) and delivers you to a private underground location where you'll meet up with your transportation. For the sake of the story, we're pretending that it's still 2014 and celebs have to hoof it through the concourse like the rest of the cattle, lol.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

I scampered up behind Emmett and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt.

"Follow in his wake!" I yelled over my shoulder to Jake and Alice, who were still gaping at the wild scene.

They snapped out of their stupid and hurried to catch up. The mob was only four or five people deep right then, but the constant shifting of the paps as they tried to get the best spot made forward progress difficult. My toes were stepped on more than once, and I got a particularly hard jab in the ribs from a flying elbow.

I was so intent on pushing to the front that I almost fell over backward when the entire huddle of people started moving in the opposite direction. It seemed the celebrity had emerged and was on the move.

"Get in your places if you can! Start messing with their shots!" I called out.

Cameras were all around me, so it was easy to wave my hands in front of the lenses. When a pap bumped me particularly hard with his arm, I hip-checked him into a trashcan.

"What the hell are you doing?" he yelled in my face even as his camera continued to make its chk-chk-chk sounds. "Get outta my way!"

"How about you get out of _their_ way!" I retorted, putting both my hands in the path of his shot. "Stop bothering people who just want to get to their damned car!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" Using his superior weight and size, he shoved his way around me.

Instead of bothering with a reply, I ducked low and wove through the crowd toward Emmett, who was having a blast pushing paps to the side using only the bulk of his body. His arms were waving around like mine had been, getting in the way of several cameras.

I glanced around but didn't see Alice or Jake. Rose, however, was moving with the mob just behind me, impressively ruining numerous shots with her hands, arms, and body. She taunted whatever paps were unfortunate enough to be near her.

"Are your lives so pathetic that you want to ruin other people's? How can you stand to look at yourself in the mirror? Do your mamas know you stalk people as a living, you disgusting pieces of shit? Bet they're real proud of how you turned out."

I would've laughed, except I was too busy trying to create as much mayhem as possible. I didn't even know which celebrity was walking less than ten feet behind me. I caught a few glimpses of what looked like a tall guy wearing a dark, baggy hoodie pulled low over a baseball cap, but that didn't narrow down the number of possibilities much.

It wasn't until my initial jolt of adrenaline started to wear off that I could make sense of the calls and yells coming from the surrounding paps.

"Edward, over here! On your left!"

"How was New York? Did you have a good time with Kate?"

"Edward, is Kate going to move to LA?"

"Are you and Kate having a fight?"

Now, despite going to school in LA, I didn't know much about the big names in Hollywood or what they were up to. I had no idea who all the hot young stars were or what the latest scandal was. My own life kept me busy enough, and I wasn't much for drama.

But I didn't live completely under a rock. Unless there was some other famous Hollywood twosome named with the same first names, I was pretty sure the celeb currently being blitzed was none other than Edward Cullen, star of the action-based _Code Name_ movies. His leading lady in the films was Kate Andersen, and they were rumored to be a couple off-screen, as well.

I hadn't seen either of the two _Code Name_ movies out on disc and wasn't planning on checking out _Code Name: Independence_ , which would be in theaters sometime in the summer. Shoot'em up really flicks weren't my thing. Edward Cullen also had small parts in a few indie films, but _Code Name: Genesis_ was his break-out role. It earned him a large following of fans, especially those who were attracted to chiseled, painfully-handsome young men.

His popularity with the paps skyrocketed when gossip rags declared him and Kate a couple. Photogs hounded them anytime they stepped out in public—together or separately—and didn't let up until they'd chased the celebs back into hiding. They were relentless.

I'd heard about the sheer audacity of the paparazzi, but seeing it, experiencing it firsthand…it was insane. The photographers shoved their cameras and flash-stick-things everywhere and anywhere they thought would give a good picture, including straight in the face of the hood-covered actor. They moved in stampede fashion: trampling, knocking over, and climbing on top of whatever happened to be in their path.

 _Animals_ , I thought with disgust. _Scavenging, shameless animals._

* * *

 **See you Monday!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

At some point, I noticed that a few of the paps had turned their cameras on me and my friends. I didn't have time to think about what that might mean but figured if Edward was harassed less because of it, we were doing a good thing. Alice and Jake took the situation a step further, eating up the media attention with a spoon. They made weird faces into the lenses and shouted out all sorts of nonsense phrases.

I was worried the situation might've gotten out of hand when airport security moved closer, but they seemed more interested in watching than interfering. In fact, I'm pretty sure I saw one of them give Emmett a thumbs up when he "accidentally" knocked a particularly annoying paparazzo to the ground. Maybe we were taking the actions they couldn't because of their job regulations. In any case, if it was perfectly acceptable for the photogs to harass people, then we should be able to do the same to them without getting in trouble.

It felt like a long time, but only about five minutes passed as the mob made its way outside and to the curb where Edward's ride waited. The group quickly formed a ring around the black SUV that would whisk the actor away to safety.

Not expecting the chaos as photographers jockeyed for the best position, I got caught in the rush and was pushed backward into the side of the vehicle. My feet slipped out from under me, and I ended up doing an ass-plant onto the pavement.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, feeling the jolt of the impact travel up my spine. My tailbone was throbbing already, but I didn't have time to dwell on the ache as legs closed in on all sides. Someone's knee smacked into the back my head, and another person actually had the gall to stand over my outstretched legs, his hairy calves only inches away from my nose.

I tried to stand up, but the moment my hand touched the sidewalk to push off, a stiff-soled shoe came down and crushed my fingers underneath it.

"Ow! Son of a—"

"Get back, get back!"

The weight lifted almost immediately following the sharp command and a burst of movement. I massaged my fingers as the man in the dark polo shirt, who I assumed was Edward's bodyguard, maneuvered his hulking body between me and the surging crowd.

"Are you okay?"

A pair of black Nike shoes entered my field of vision. I looked up and was shocked to see the light green eyes of Edward Cullen peering at me from under his hood with a wary sort of curiosity.

"Huh?" was my brilliant reply.

His mouth started to move as if he was going to say something else, but then a pap lunged forward and thrust a camera in my face. I tried in vain to shield my eyes from the blinding flashes, but reddish-white spots quickly became all I could see.

"Back off!"

Though I couldn't make out a damned thing in my temporary state of blindness, I heard a scuffle behind me. Polo-shirt guy continued to bark out his "get back" orders, and then there was the sound of equipment clattering to the ground.

I really hoped it was that photog's damned strobe flash.

It didn't occur to me to resist when I felt someone's arm wrap around my midsection and pull me up against a firm body. My cheek brushed against contrastingly soft fabric as I wobbled on my feet, waiting for equilibrium to return. The arm tightened around me just long enough to provide support and then was gone.

"Try to be more careful, would ya?"

I was certain the low, gruff voice belong to Edward, but my eyesight still sucked enough that I couldn't make out his expression very well. Was he mad at me?

Too stunned at the entire sequence of events to come up with any sort of coherent response, I could only blink furiously as he spun around and jumped into the waiting SUV. It struck me that I should thank him, but his door was already slamming shut. Mr. Polo Shirt elbowed a few photogs out of the way and climbed into the front passenger seat.

I tried to step away from the vehicle so it could move off, but the wall of people pushing forward kept me trapped. A blast of the SUV's horn startled me into more aggressive action.

"Back up, you fuckers!" I screamed, dropping my shoulder and shoving into the bodies behind me.

Nothing happened. I was still pressed against the side of the vehicle.

"You okay, Bells?" Emmett called from his location near the front right wheel. His arms were spread wide, keeping several of the paps from getting closer to the SUV.

"I'm stuck!"

Emmett came at once and escorted me through. When we broke free of the crowd, I looked over my shoulder to see Edward's vehicle finally leaving the paparazzi behind. I let out a triumphant yell that was fueled by all the adrenaline still rushing through my system.

"Ha, no more pictures for you, suckahs!"

* * *

 **So, I'm going to try something I haven't done before: switch between 1st-person POVs. Tomorrow we'll hear from the celeb himself...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

 **EPOV**

"You're in the terminal? I thought you were going to call when you landed." A pause. "I was worried."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. I didn't have the chance. Paul got me off the plane a minute after we pulled up to the gate. We're heading to the car right now."

I lifted my head a little and glanced at the two people in walking in front of me. The airline's security escort with his stubby legs was having a hard time matching Paul's long strides and fast pace. If I wasn't so damned tired, I'd probably think it was funny. But as it was, I barely had enough energy to concentrate on Kate's quiet voice over the phone.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she sighed. "I don't want to bother you. Stay safe, and…maybe call me later tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, well…I miss you already."

I stifled a yawn and shifted my backpack over my shoulder. "Miss you, too."

The door leading from the restricted passageway to the main concourse lay just ahead, so I stuffed the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled my ball cap down lower over my forehead.

"Are you ready to go, sir?" Paul asked, pausing to give me a careful once-over with his dark eyes.

I nearly laughed at his serious tone. Despite having worked with the guy for five years, I never got used to how he could go from being so professional in front of other people to smacking me upside the head and calling me a "whiny douche-nugget" the second we were out of the spotlight.

Paul gave me time to make sure my game face was on before pushing open the door. It was a nice gesture on his part, even if it didn't make a damned bit of difference. All the Xanax in the world wouldn't keep me from getting stressed out over the insanity that was about to break out.

I could hear the buzz of the crowd growing louder as we approached the final turn before the security checkpoint. It wasn't until the flashes started going off that I realized my sunglasses were still in my backpack.

Damn.

I probably should've stopped to pull them out, but we were already in the line of sight for at least one camera. Making a production out of putting on sunglasses would lead to stories about how I was trying to hide a hangover or some shit like that. Of course, they were going to write that anyway because of my bloodshot eyes and tired appearance.

I could already see the headlines: "Edward Cullen Returns to LA after Weeklong Bender with Alcoholic Girlfriend."

Or maybe they'd go with drugs since I'd lost weight. Or both drugs and alcohol.

Probably both.

The strange truth was that my lankier figure and much of the exhaustion _were_ related to those substances, but only because of an upcoming role. My musician character had a drug addiction, and I'd been shedding pounds to look the part. It wasn't just weight that needed to come off, either. The cut figure I'd honed for the _Code Name_ movies had to go in favor of a stringy, wasted body.

I'd stupidly ignored warnings from others that there was too little time to prepare for the role after _Code Name: Independence_ filming wrapped. I was paying the price for that now. My severely restricted diet left me hungry, cranky, and tired. I missed working out and its endorphin-induced high. There was only so much sitting around on my ass that I could do before going crazy, and I'd passed that limit a few weeks ago.

That was part of the reason I went to New York. I figured if I had to kill time doing nothing, I might as well do it with my girlfriend. Kate was in between filming, too, so I thought we could sneak away on a trip somewhere or maybe catch a few shows in the city, hit a bar or two, whatever. It's not like I wanted to paint the town red; I just wanted to get _out_. I was sick of seeing the interior of my house or some stupid hotel room.

I really should've known better than to have called Kate from the airport last week to tell her I was on my way. The girl planned out her day in 15-minute increments, actually scheduled time slots in her week to talk to her friends and family, and needed a written plan of action before taking a crap. Okay, maybe she didn't do the last one, but that's what it seemed like to me sometimes.

After a long moment of silence on her end of the line, she'd told me she would do her best to move things around so that we could spend some time together. She wasn't bitchy about it, not that she ever is, but I could tell she wasn't happy.

My first full day there, we went out to dinner and then a club. It turned out to be more trouble than it was worth, and only a small part of that was due to all the cameras and autograph requests. Kate was on edge the whole night and kept going on about how she could've arranged for security if she'd had enough of a heads up about my visit.

Admittedly, I sort of overacted when we got back to her condo. I didn't go off or anything—that's not my style—but I did mope around for the next two days. She felt bad and practically tiptoed around me until I pulled my head out of my ass. I left New York on good terms with her, but the visit as a whole was a fail.

And the cherry on top of my disappointment sundae?

Enduring the next five minutes of hell as I pushed my way through a gauntlet of paparazzi to get to my damned ride.

Ugh.

* * *

 **So, I'd been planning on 500 words chapters, but they felt so darned short and insubstantial that I've been doubling up. As such, I'm out of pre-written chapters! I'm going to try my best to post tomorrow, and after that, I'll be aiming for M, W, F updates. Sorry about the change of plan, but I don't want to neglect my other WIPs. :^)**

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Hey Edward, can you stop for a picture?"

 _Can you kiss my ass?_

"Why did Kate go out with Alec Kennedy right after you left her place?"

 _Because they're friends and she has a life, unlike you bastards._

"Welcome back to LA, Edward!"

 _Fuck you very much._

I never used to be so cynical. Hell, back when I was getting started, I actually got to know a few photographers, and they were pretty decent to me. It's not like they're _all_ bad. But the pushy, intrusive, dangerous ones had made my life so miserable since I got my break that I was sick of whole media thing, period.

I'd heard some people say I should just stop for a few pictures, say a few words, and then they'd leave me alone. Yeah, I wished it was that easy. I tried that once as an experiment, but the paps Just. Wouldn't. Leave. They stayed clicking and circling and recording for ages until I couldn't take it anymore and drove away in my car. And then they jumped in _their_ cars to follow, weaving through traffic and running red lights, hounding me everywhere I went. This continued all day until I escaped to the relative safety of my house.

That experience confirmed what I'd long suspected: no matter how much I gave, they'd always want more.

My trek through the airport was an example of this. How many times had I done the exact same thing? All they would get were more pictures of me staring at the floor with a frown on my face. I'd probably even worn the same jeans-hoodie combo before.

But as expected, a hoard of paparazzi rushed in the moment I stepped out into the public area of the airport. Paul did his best to clear a path, but there was only one of him and 25 of them. It was lost cause, for the most part. I'd had more security in the past but found it didn't do much to stop the pictures or the jostling.

I kept my gaze down as flashes went off and voices yelled in my ear. One paparazzo managed to dart around Paul. He crouched down low to the floor so that he could aim his camera straight up into my face. Everything went white for a second as my vision blanked out.

"Dammit," I swore under my breath.

I stopped walking long enough for my eyes to recover, and when I could see again, the camera was gone. I naturally assumed Paul had cleared the guy out, which is why I was so surprised to see the pap in question being screamed at by a tall blonde lording over his prone figure.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth—not that she looked _anything_ like a horse—I quickly shuffled onward.

The sudden movement of a really large guy coming at me from the right caught my attention. Seeming to be about my age, he was huge—almost as tall as Paul and just as muscular. My already-high level of stress jumped up another notch as he barreled through the mob. I turned my head just enough to get a good look and saw three other people following close behind him: a petite brunette, _another_ huge guy, and a tiny dark-haired girl.

Given how young they looked and fact that two of them were female, I figured they were rampaging fans.

Great. Effin' perfect.

I picked up my pace even more and got right up on Paul's heels.

Oddly, the leading big guy swerved away from me and headed toward Paul. The brunette girl kept coming, however, so I braced myself for an attack of the usual camera phone, item-to-be-autographed, reaching arms, or worst of all, puckering lips. A lot of people had this messed up idea that celebrities were objects and had no rights to privacy or personal space. I'd been groped and pawed at more times that I could remember.

But this particular day seemed to have more surprises in store for me. The brown-haired girl danced her way through the throng with impressive grace and cut in front of Paul. She took up a position off her big friend's left flank and actually started holding back one of the paps like she was an offensive lineman running a quarterback sneak play or something. I couldn't help staring. I'd seen a lot of crazy during my years in the business, but fans coming to my defense against the paparazzi was a new one.

When the tiny dark-haired girl took a similar position across from the brunette, I felt a twinge of worry. There was a reason why bodyguards were guys with large bodies to absorb the impact of surging crowds. The gesture the girls were making was nice and all, but they stood a good chance of getting hurt.

I thought about asking them to stop, but creating such a scene would be like putting a drop of blood in a shark tank. There'd be a feeding frenzy as paps fought each other off for the best shots.

No, the best thing would be for me to get to the car as fast as possible with minimal drama.

I almost changed my mind when I saw a large camera-wielding asshole jab his meaty elbow into the brunette. Wincing in sympathy—been there, done that, had gotten the bruises—I took an involuntary step in her direction, ready to deliver some justice. But without a second's hesitation, the girl retaliated by throwing her hip into the guy and using his momentum against him to knock him into a trashcan. My eyes widened as I watched the much bigger man scramble to stay on his feet.

Well, huh.

Maybe those girls could hold their own, after all.

* * *

 **You can see story teasers, including associated chapter pictures, on my FB page: Winterhorses Fiction. Or you can friend me: Rachel Winterhorses. :^)**

 **See ya Friday! (Though there'll probably be a chapter of The Fence in the meantime...)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

I ducked my head and started toward the exit again. The cameras kept flashing and the paps kept yelling as the mob made its way through the airport. Every so often, I caught a glimpse of waving arms or stumbling paps, but I did my best to ignore it. The less I reacted, the better for both me and the small group of vigilante ball-busters.

After what seemed like forever, I stepped through the terminal's automatic doors and onto the sidewalk. My chariot of salvation idled at the curb just a dozen or so yards away. By that point, I was practically drooling to dive in and slam the door behind me.

Just one last major hurdle to clear.

Like they had a collective hive mentality or some crap like that, the paparazzi rushed the SUV all at once. Everyone wanted a spot at the front end of the car, and a few lucky bastards would claim the money shot positions. Again, why the hell they wanted pictures of me slouching over in my seat, I'd never understand.

I'd almost reached the Promised Land when I saw a girl go down by the rear bumper. She was swallowed up by the crowd of paps so fast that I couldn't tell which one of the two dark-haired girls it was. I glanced around to look for her friends, but none of them seemed to have noticed her fall.

For a second, I was torn over what to do. Paul had grabbed the SUV's door handle, and in a single long stride, I'd be climbing into the relative safety of the vehicle. I was so close to freedom that I could almost taste it.

But _…dammit._

I knew all too well how the paps could be. The longer the girl stayed on the ground, the higher her chances of getting hurt. What kind of jerk would I be to ignore her situation, especially after she'd been trying to do a good deed for me?

A big one, I grudgingly decided.

"Paul," I hissed in his ear. "There's a girl down back there. Go help her."

"What?"

He looked at me like I was making the Crazy Talk, which actually wasn't too far off.

"One of those girls got knocked down. Help her out."

I glared at him when he didn't move.

" _Now_ , shithead."

"But you…fuck…okay, _fine_. Get your ass inside, and I'll take care of it... _sir._ "

I should've listened to what he said, but for some reason, I found myself following him through the mass of bodies. Cameras began clicking even faster as surprise rose in waves from the shouting photogs.

Shooting me covert death looks the whole time, Paul did his bodyguard thing and cleared a space around the brunette. She sat on the ground rubbing her hand and muttering something to herself. The pissed-off scowl on her face was surprisingly cute.

The fact that I noticed was even more surprising.

It would sound arrogant if I ever said it out loud, but the truth was that I rarely looked at women anymore—like, _look_ looked at them. Attractive people were a dime a dozen in Hollywood, and though I was only 25, I'd kissed a respectable number of them on screen. One tended to become numb to physical beauty when surrounded by it all the time.

That's why it was so weird that I'd registered anything specific at all about the girl on the ground. She wasn't bad-looking, that's for sure, but the fiery attitude she'd shown when standing up to the paps intrigued me more than anything else.

It was…refreshing.

"Are you okay?" I asked, frowning at her extremely red hand.

As if confused by my question, she tilted her chin and blinked up at me. I wondered if she'd hit her head during the fall and was about to ask when a photog flashed his damned camera right in her face.

Having experienced the same thing a few minutes earlier, I felt both sorry for her and angry at the paparazzo.

Like, _really_ angry.

"Back off!" I shouted at the dickwad as I put my hand over his camera's lens and shoved it away.

Paul intervened immediately, stepping in front of the offender and moving him back, but the damage had been done. The paparazzi smelled a story and surged forward in hopes of getting some action shots. I tried to stand up, but there were at least two men leaning over me with their cameras clicking inches away.

Feeling a little claustrophobic, I twisted violently and managed to shove them aside. My elbow hit something hard, and a lens piece from one of the guys' cameras went flying. He cursed loudly.

Um...sorry, not sorry.

I glanced down at the brunette and found her still on the pavement trying to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes. With a growl of general annoyance, I bent down, threaded my arm under hers, and pulled her into a standing position. It took her a second to regain her balance, which was understandable, but the unsteadiness only served to remind me of her earlier vulnerability.

"Try to be more careful, would ya?" I muttered.

The words came out sounding harsher than I'd intended, and a look of surprise crossed her features. Feeling like a first-class prick but not able to do anything about it, I just shook my head at my douchbaggery as I pushed back to the car door and finally climbed in. I hated to leave her—or anyone—to deal with a circus that was meant for me, but the shitstorm wouldn't end until I was gone.

"What the actual fuck was that?" Paul yelled at me the second we were out of camera range. "Are you _trying_ to get sued, or would that just be a happy bonus to your stupidity?"

"Shut up, jackwipe," I grumbled, pulling a bottle of water out of my backpack. "I couldn't just leave her there on the ground."

"Uh, yeah you could've. I don't know what the hell those dumbass kids thought they were doing, but they deserved whatever shit they got themselves into. I mean, _Jesus!_ "

He slumped back into his seat and scrubbed his sweaty face with his hands.

"Come on, man. Maybe they caused a little more crazy than usual, but it's the principle behind the thing. It's about time someone actually stood up to the paps."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't've minded so much if they'd picked a different celeb to defend. Maybe Bynes or Lohan or something."

I let out a snort and rolled my eyes. "You're putting me in the same category as them? Thanks, man."

"The same category in terms of pap appeal? Ha, you wish."

Paul turned in his seat to give me an insolent smirk.

"No, Eddie-boy," he continued, "when it comes to drama, you're in a class of your own."

* * *

 **Thanks SO much to the ever-wonderful FicSisters at IHOFF for the rec, and hello to any new readers! :^)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Ugh, Alice.

"Go to hell," I mumbled, pulling the covers up over my head. "I'm on vacation."

"Yeah, well, you're also on a bunch of websites!"

"Websites? What are you…no, forget it…I don't care. It's too early to care about anything."

"Fine, go back to sleep," Alice said in a bright, chirpy voice that somehow managed to be condescending at the same time. "Me and the rest of the _Cullen Crusaders_ are meeting up for brunch."

"The wha?" I poked my head out from my den of blankets to blink at her. "You and the who?"

"The Cullen Crusaders, duh. If you'd get out of bed before noon, you'd know these things."

"Okay, okay, I'm up. Now spill." I pushed myself into a sitting position on the bed and rubbed my eyes.

She plopped down beside me and thrust her iPad in my face.

"Our stunt yesterday. It's headlining all the webloids' homepages. Perez Hilton named us the 'Cullen Crusaders' because of our mission to save Edward from the photogs."

"That's dumb. It's not like we knew it was going to be him," I commented, swiping through the photo gallery. "I just wanted to mess with the paps."

"Yeah, but they didn't know that we didn't know. Anyway, I like it. I think the name's kinda cute."

My nose wrinkled in response. "More like stupid, you mean. It sounds like we're a group of over-obsessed superheroes from the Middle Ages or something. Don't these idiots have more important things to gossip about?"

"Maybe it's a slow news day." She shrugged. "Anyway, I'm leaving in thirty. If you're coming, you'd better get ready."

I groaned and flopped back down on the mattress. Half an hour wasn't nearly enough time; I needed at least twice that. Though it would only take me ten minutes to shower and get dressed, there was the matter of dragging myself out of bed and into the bathroom—easily a fifty-minute process.

Somehow, I managed to defy the laws of nature and meet Alice in the living room with a full minute to spare.

"Where's my bunkmate?" I grumbled in between yawns. "With yours?"

"Yeah. Everyone left a while ago to hit the gym. They're going to meet us at Olympian."

I glanced down at her heeled boots. "You're gonna walk that far in those? I'd better not hear you whine when your feet start hurting."

"Never," she said with a grin.

And true to her word, she didn't make a peep about aching toes, even though I saw her wince several times. Since misery loved company, I was in a much more pleasant mood by the time we reached the burger joint. Too bad it didn't last.

Jake, Jasper, Rosalie, and Emmett were already seated with drinks in front of them. They started ragging on me right away.

"Hey look, it's Captain Crusader, herself," Jake called out as Alice and I made our way to the table. "Our fearless leader has arrived!"

"Why are you late? Did you rescue anyone on your way over, O Mighty Bringer of Justice?" Emmett teased.

"Maybe she was summoned for a private audience with _him_." That was Rosalie.

"Hmm, an interesting possibility," Jasper mused dramatically. "There's certainly no denying the sexual tension between them yesterday."

"What the hell are you morons babbling about?" I asked, sliding into the empty seat beside Jake. "Who's 'him'? What sexual tension?"

"The sparks between you and your no-longer-secret lover, Edward Cullen. Seriously, Bells, how could you keep something this big from us? You wound us." Emmett grabbed his chest in mock agony.

I scoffed while rolling my eyes. "Me and an international heartthrob? Sparks? Yeah, okay." I reached for Jake's soda and took a drink. "'Going to the gym' must be a euphemism for smoking up because I'm pretty sure you all are high right now."

"Then everyone on the internet must be stoned, too. Either that, or they saw _this_ picture."

Emmett slid his phone across the table. I grabbed the device before it fell into my lap and glanced at the screen.

Then I brought it closer to my eyes and stared.

Hard.

Alice loved reading romance novels in print. She bought, swapped, and borrowed dozens of them monthly. Because she wasn't the neatest person in the world, I'd find books all over the apartment. So, I'd seen numerous covers during our almost two years of living together.

The picture on Emmett's screen looked a lot like it could be one of those covers.

A scruff-sporting, ruggedly perfect young man stared down with intense, possessive eyes that seemed as if their gaze could light objects on fire. His arm held a girl tight against his body, and the girl…

At the time, I'd barely been able to see due to the flash of the stupid paparazzo's camera. I'd tipped up my face for just a moment after he grumbled at me to be careful, and that was the exact moment caught in the picture. My lips were parted slightly as if I'd just gasped in either awe or fear, and my wide eyes were practically an advertisement for dewy, overwhelmed naiveté.

If I didn't know the story behind the picture, if I hadn't been one of the two main characters in the scene, I'd swear the guy was one step away from ravaging the girl.

And the girl, for all her apparent innocence, seemed desperate for him to do so.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

"Okay, see! This is how crap gets started!" I ranted, chucking Emmett's phone back to him. "Of the seven thousand pictures they got yesterday, two or three were taken at just the right time and angle to make something completely innocent look like a scandal! Next thing you know, Edward will be accused of cheating, and I'll be flamed for chasing after him in order to launch my acting career."

"Your singing career, actually."

I looked across the table to Alice, who was tapping the screen of her phone.

"Huh?"

"There's one site that thinks you're Jessica Stanley, a vlogger with a small following who's known to sing during some of her webcasts. They say you're using Edward to get a recording deal." Alice held up her phone. "You do sorta look like her."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "I can't even with this. Does anyone have something else we can talk about besides my alleged affair with Edward?"

Emmett's hand shot in the air. "Oh, me, pick me! I've got a question. When's our next mission? I've got some ideas on how we can up our game."

"Same here," Jasper said eagerly. "Alice and I were looking at clothing options last night."

"Nice, brah! Can we get capes?"

"'No capes!'" Alice exclaimed with a laugh, quoting _The Incredibles._ "We're not talking costumes, anyway. There are a few super-reflective clothes and accessories that can help mess up photos. It only works against cameras that have flashes attached to them—something about light angles and all that—but I figure if there are six of us in the clothes and a bunch of flashes going off, we might ruin a few shots and—"

"Okay, stop," I said, gaping at Alice, Emmett, and Jasper in turns. "You're joking, right? Did you actually spend time researching this stuff?"

"Well, yeah," Emmett replied, looking at me like I was crazy for questioning the obvious. "There's a lot we can do if we get creative. Me and Jake were thinking about wearing big hats, like sombreros or something."

"You too, Jake?" I sputtered.

"I'd like to state for the record that none of this crossed my mind, sombreros or otherwise," Rose stated archly. "But if we do this, I'm totally in."

The waiter came over just then, and while we gave our orders, I thought about what my friends were proposing. Although they meant well, the undertaking seemed like more trouble than it was worth. But when I realized that my main reason for hesitating was because I'd become a target myself, I felt a flare of anger.

After just one small incident with the paps, I was already hiding and making decisions based on avoiding their harassment—exactly the sort of thing that had gotten me so mad in the first place. Backing down now didn't sit well with me at all. If anything, my friends had the right idea. We needed to expand our playbook.

I cleared my throat as soon as the waiter left our table. "Alright, peeps. Let's talk this out. Say we go to the airport again this week. Are we just going to sit around all day and wait for someone famous to walk by? I guess that's how the paparazzi do it, right?"

They were mainly rhetorical questions, so I was surprised when Jasper spoke up.

"Yes and no. In addition to waiting around to get lucky, most of them have daily lists of major celebs expected to go through LAX. The paps share information that they get from bribing insiders or people in the service industry, like hotel workers and car service drivers."

"How'd you know that?" Emmett asked, impressed.

"Google," Jasper answered with a shrug.

Rosalie drummed her nails against the side of her glass. "It'd be nice if we could get on that mailing list. Maybe I'll take a trip to the airport tomorrow and see what I can do."

"Perfect," I said. "So what day do we want to try this again? Maybe Friday? That should give us enough time to at least pick up some sombreros." I grinned at Emmett.

"Oh, and how about some strobe lights or some of those really bright flashlights?" Alice suggested. "We could shine them at the cameras."

The six of us continued to discuss technology and tactics until the food came. Group conversation trailed off as we began chowing down.

Rosalie nudged me in the arm after dousing her fries with ketchup and smirked.

"So, how come you didn't tell us the real story about your run-in with Mr. Famous McHotterson?" she asked in a teasing voice.

"You guys are never gonna let me forget this, huh?" I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "The whole thing lasted, like, 30 seconds. Half of that time, I couldn't see shit. Those weren't hearts and stars in my eyes; they were charred pieces of my retinas."

She laughed at my overly-pathetic voice. "Okay, maybe you have an excuse, but what about him? He was staring pretty hard."

I dropped my hands so that she could see unamused expression on my face. "As much as I would love to have the epitome of male perfection that is Edward Cullen sweep me off my feet, I'm living in reality. You know, the one where I'm a poor, single college student, and he's…none of the above. The opposite of the above, in fact."

"Stranger things have happened," Rosalie said with a laugh. "Look at Patrick Dempsey and his hairdresser wife."

"She filed for divorce in January," Alice piped up, apparently having listened in on our conversation.

"Yeah, but they haven't signed anything. _And,_ they were holding hands and cuddling in Paris last week," Rosalie shot back. "Stop squashing Bella's dream."

"Bella's dream is to be with Patrick Dempsey?" Jake asked as he stole a handful of fries from my plate.

"No, dumbass. We're talking about Bella and Edward Cullen." Rose reached across me and plucked a fry out of Jake grasp. "He's gonna ditch his lame girlfriend, marry Bella, and make her carry his beautiful babies."

Jake scowled at her and threw the fries down on his plate. "Don't be stupid. Bella deserves someone better than that pasty-white, air-headed cream puff."

"Whoa, my man, do I detect some jealousy?" Emmett laughed. "Or is envy the right word, since Bells isn't yours to lose in the first place?"

"Fuck off, Emmett," Jake and I said at the same time.

I playfully bumped my shoulder into Jake's arm but was surprised when the smile he gave me in return seemed tense and embarrassed. We'd been close friends since grade school, and I'd never been interested in him romantically. Not even a little.

But could it be possible that he—?

"Eh, Bella's right," Rosalie said, distracting me from the thought before it could go any further. "I'm just living vicariously in her fantasy land because I'm pretty much stuck with this one." She rubbed Emmett's bicep when he huffed in mock indignation.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," she continued with a sly look in my direction. "Real attraction or not, that pap picture of you and Edward is almost soft-core porn material. If you don't have it made into a life-sized poster to hang on the ceiling above your bed, you're crazy!"

* * *

 **Thanks SO much to A Different Forest for mentioning Cullen Crusaders in its weekly Fic Dive! Hello to any new readers!**

 **A special shout-out to Rita01tx and 2muchtrouble for the life-sized poster idea. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

 **EPOV**

"This is _so_ good, Ma. I'm gonna get fat if I keep eating your delicious cooking."

"Then stop inviting yourself over for dinner, asshole," I grumbled under my breath, stabbing a piece of lettuce with my fork.

"Don't take your crankiness out on me," Paul said with a laugh. "I can't help it if Ma likes me best."

The big jerk gave my mom a sweet smile and then shoved a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth. I kicked him under the table.

Though he didn't react to my direct hit on his shin, Mom somehow knew what I'd done. "Edward! Be nice to Paul," she admonished playfully. "He _is_ my favorite, after all."

When said favorite smirked at me, I had to fight down the urge to shove his face into his plate. I didn't normally get so pissed off when we gave each other crap, but it was hard to stay cheerful when comparing one's bowl of grasses to everyone else's mouthwateringly fragrant bacon-wrapped filet mignon.

It wasn't even the good kind of grass.

Dad caught me eye-fucking his leftovers and frowned. He pushed his plate in my direction. "I'm full. Why don't you finish it off?"

I shook my head resolutely, even though I was practically drooling at the idea.

"Come on, Son. You know this isn't good for your body. You've already lost 30 pounds and hardly look better than some of my cancer patients. I don't want you to suffer permanent damage, if you haven't already."

"I'm not talking about this again," I muttered. "It's a done deal."

"Edward, nothing is worth—"

"Dr. Cullen, could you pass the salt?" Paul interrupted loudly.

Dad stopped mid-sentence and glanced between me and Paul. "Fine, I get the message. I'll drop the subject," he said, nodding at the salt shaker, which already sat in front of Paul's plate. "For now, anyway. But don't think that—"

"So! Did you hear the latest, Ma? The Cullen Crusaders rode again today."

I dropped my face into my hands and groaned. While I appreciated Paul's continued attempt to distract my dad, his choice of a new topic wasn't much of an improvement.

"Oh?" she said eagerly, leaning forward in her chair. "Did they have any new tricks up their sleeves?"

"Yeah! They were all still wearing the lights, but this time, the two big guys were carrying a blacked-out version of those riot gear shield things. And get this: they'd painted "Paps Suck" on the front. Hilarious!"

"Oh, so now you're on their side, huh?" I said with a scowl.

"I told ya, as long as I don't have to worry about lawsuits happening on my watch, I'm all for it."

"I don't understand why they're still being called the 'Cullen' Crusaders, though," my dad mused out loud. "Yesterday, it was Ariana Grande and Christie Brinkley. And then today…well, it obviously wasn't Edward. Who were they helping today?"

"Michael B. Jordan, and holy crap was it funny!" Paul flashed a mischievous grin at me. "The guy was laughing and cheering the whole time, especially when your little brunette got in a shouting match with a pap twice her size."

"She's not 'my' brunette, you moron," I retorted. "And Dad's right. It doesn't make any sense to keep associating that group with me. How can the rags even spin it that way?"

Paul had pulled out his phone and was flicking his finger down the screen. "According to _National Examiner_ , the kids are working under your orders to get the paps back for harassing you so bad. They're the Angels to your Charlie."

"Even the boys?" my mom giggled. "Oh, Edward, see if you can get those muscly young men to wear black leather pants and high-heeled boots like Cameron, Lucy, and Drew. That'd be so sexy."

"What are you talking about, woman?" Dad said, smacking his fork on the table in dramatic fashion. "I've got all the sexy you need right here."

Mom giggled again and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Don't I know it," she cooed.

"Aw, hell no. I'm not gonna sit here and listen to my parents' twisted version of foreplay." I picked up my empty salad bowl and got to my feet. "I'll be watching TV in the living room."

They both laughed at me as I walked to the sink. After thanking my mom for dinner, Paul put his own dishes away and followed me out of the kitchen.

"So what's the deal?" he asked. "Are you staying here tonight or heading back to your place?"

"Eh, I might as well crash here." I flopped down the couch and tried my best not to pout. "It's not like I have anything else interesting going on."

"Jesus, man, this whiny bitch thing is getting old. I know you're hungry and depressed and shit, but you made the choice to take on the role of a meth addict. Next time, pick something where you get to eat a lot, like a heavyweight boxer or something."

"When you see the finished film, you'll know why I couldn't pass it up. It's the part of a lifetime."

"Yeah, well, let's hope this crash dieting bullshit doesn't shorten your own. I'm not a doctor like your dad, but even I know this isn't good for you."

I picked up a pillow and heaved it at him. "Seriously, man? Didn't you just rescue me from this kind of torture? Leave it alone, or I'll show you whiny bitch like you've never seen before."

"Alright, alright! I'm shutting up. Let's just find a game to watch."

I tossed him the remote and stared at the screen while he flipped through the channels. A basketball game soon caught his attention, but my thoughts were all over the place.

"Hey, Paul," I said after a while. "Those guys…you know, the Crusaders or whatever…no one got hurt, did they?"

"Huh? The kids? I didn't hear of anything bad happening." Paul side-eyed me. "Why? You worried about your girl?"

"No, _Kate_ 's fine. I talked to her this afternoon, thank you very much. With how much you're up my ass, I'm surprised you didn't listen in on the conversation." I paused and then shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. "I was just curious. After all, it's important that I keep track of my Angels. So, did anyone ever figure out who they really are?"

"I think one of the big guys was ID'd as a USC student who was on the football team his freshman year until he got injured. The others are probably from USC, too, but I'm not sure if their names are out there yet." He turned his head toward me and raised his eyebrow. "Are you wondering about anyone specifically?"

"Fucking A, Paul!" I yelled. "Would you get off my fucking back already?"

Paul just stared as I fought to keep my temper under control. I knew I was overreacting yet again but couldn't seem to help it. The constant ache in my stomach was driving me nuts and making me want to lash out at everything.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head at my stupid behavior. "I know I'm being a huge dick these days. Shooting starts in 2 weeks, and if you can just keep from killing me for that long…"

"Yeah, I'm not sure that's possible. Maybe a distraction is in order." He tapped the remote on his chin. "I think you need to take another trip, but this time without Ms. Anal Retentive."

"Watch it, fucker…" I threatened.

"You know it's true," he said with a smirk. "Anyway, how about we crash at Eric's place for a few days? It's been a while since we've partied in Colorado."

"I can't believe you're six years older than me. You're like a perpetual child on steroids."

"Cool. So I'll let Eric know we'll be there on Tuesday, and you'll have Terry book us a flight?"

"Whatever. I guess so."

"Want me to drop a hint to the paps so your cute little brunette will—"

"Paul?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll go all whiny bitch on your ass again."

"Shutting up, sir."

* * *

 **Sorry I'm a day behind. RL is just...yeah.**

 **Next week will be a busy one for me on top of everything else, so I'm going to hold off on posting until Mon the 30th. To those who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you have a wonderful day. I'm very thankful for this fandom and all of you!**

 **Much love,**

 **Rachel xxoo**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

* * *

"Oh my god, Edward _and_ Michael B. Jordan? How are you going to choose?"

I straightened my clothes and smoothed down my hair—all while rolling my eyes hard at Alice's absurdity. "Maybe I'll alternate days or...hell, we could just have a threesome and be done with it."

"That's brilliant!" she exclaimed, her eyes glazing over. "They're both so hot. Oh, the possibilities…"

Jasper snorted and pinched her side. "Um, hello? Boyfriend sitting right here."

"Ow!" she shrieked, jumping away from him. "Come on, Jas, you know I love you. And anyway, based on the sites you visit, I thought you _liked_ threesomes."

"Yeah, but with two _girls_ …" Jasper muttered as we shared a laugh at his expense.

I plopped down on one of the airport's metal benches and pulled out my phone. "Well, according to our intel—thanks again for that, Rose—MBJ might be the only big name today. You guys ready to head back?"

"Yeah, let's get outta here," Emmett said, stretching his arms above his head. "I got some laundry to do, and then I wanna bank some sleep before classes start up again. My first one is at 9:30 on Mondays, and I'll need to hit the gym before that."

Jake groaned. "Ugh, I'm not ready for this. Is it summer yet?"

"Oh wah," Rosalie said as she capped a tube of lipstick and then tucked it in a pocket on Emmett's cargo shorts. "You just had 4 weeks off. It's time to get on with the semester."

"Says the girl with only one left until graduation. You were bitching just as much last year at this point."

"But _some_ of us are past that now. Sucks to be you, bro," Emmett said with a laugh. He pointed at Jasper, then Alice. "And you, and you. Ha ha!"

I smiled at his impression of Nelson from _The Simpsons_. Jake scowled and thrust his middle finger in the air, but we all knew he wasn't actually upset. Envious, of course, but that was understandable. Rosalie, Emmett, and I had mere months of our college career left, while our three closest friends were only juniors. The year difference had never seemed as large as it did now.

Realizing that a change of subject was in order, Jasper stood up and put his hand on one of the "Paps Suck" riot shields leaning against the wall.

"Come on y'all. My stomach's reminding me that it hasn't had lunch yet."

With the two large shields in our midst, we attracted attention on our way to the airport exit. The majority of people stared in confusion, but a decent amount gave us knowingly supportive smiles or thumbs up. A few even broke into applause.

We were approaching the automatic doors when a group of three girls pulling wheeled suitcases ran up to us. They looked to be about our age, and one sported a UCLA hoodie.

"Hey! Are you the Cullen Crusaders?" asked an out-of-breath brunette with dark blond highlights.

"Why do you wanna know?" challenged Rosalie, an intimidating look on her face.

"So we can tell you how much we love what you're doing!" piped up a tall strawberry blonde. "The paps are out of control, and no one was doing anything useful about it until you guys came along."

"Thanks," I replied sincerely. "It's great to know you feel that way."

The brunette who'd spoken first straightened her shoulders and turned to me with a look of determination on her face. "That's not all. We also want to help out. The more people that fight back, the better, right?"

My friends and I exchanged glances as we tried to figure out how to respond. It had never crossed our minds that others might want join our unofficial cause. Emmett was the first of us to speak.

"Sounds good to me." He shrugged. "I mean, this is a public area, so it's not like we can stop you from jumping in or whatever. It would make sense for all of us to be on the same page."

"I have to warn you, though," I cut in. "It can get rough in the middle of all the crazy." I pushed up the sleeve of my shirt to expose a purplish-yellow bruise on my arm. "This is from yesterday, and I got a few more this morning. I think we all have bruises or scratches somewhere on us by now."

The blonde smirked and gestured to the third girl, who grinned confidently at us. "Kasey and I are on the soccer team. Injuries are a way of life."

Their brunette friend didn't change her mind at my warning, either. "I don't do sports," she said, "but as a girl with four brothers, I can hold my own when it comes to shoving matches."

"Well, I don't have a problem with it if you want to help out," I decided. "Emmett said he's good; what about everyone else?"

Alice nodded enthusiastically, and Jake smiled his acceptance. Jasper took slightly longer to make up his mind.

"As long as you realize we're not responsible if you get hurt or in trouble somehow, it's fine with me," he said, addressing the three girls.

Only one of us had yet to respond. We all looked at Rosalie, who seemed to be deep in thought.

"So, what do you think?" I probed.

"I guess it's okay," she said. "Though I definitely agree with Jasper. We can meet up and work together, but if something happens, you're on your own." She fixed her fiercest glare on the three girls. "Listen, I'm perfectly capable of being a first-class bitch on my own, but you should know that my father is a senior partner of a civil law firm. If you're thinking of screwing us over in any way, I can promise that would be a huge mistake."

The one named Kasey and the strawberry blonde gaped at Rosalie, but the brunette's resolute expression never wavered. "Got it," she said firmly, then glanced at me. "So, when are you coming here next? Should we bring anything?"

"We'll be back next Saturday morning around 10," I told her. "Since it's the first week of classes for us, we're going to wait until our schedules settle down before doing anything on weekdays. And unless you've got a spare riot shield lying around that you want to use, I can't think of anything you need to bring." I smirked at the thought and then grabbed my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. "How about I get your number so I can let you know if anything changes?"

The girl nodded and pulled out her own phone. As we exchanged information, I found out her name was Stephanie and the strawberry blonde went by Cori, though her actual first name was Corrinne. My friends introduced themselves, and after a few more minutes of conversation, the three girls, who were indeed students at UCLA, headed out of the airport.

The rest of us hung back to talk about what had just happened.

"How great is that?" Emmett said with a laugh. "We've recruited our first new members, and I didn't even have to pound the pavement wearing a sandwich board."

"We'll still need you to do that when we go national," Alice teased. "Though, seriously, I think this is a good thing. Maybe if enough people start getting involved, the paps will back off. I'm all for whatever makes it harder for them to—"

"What, make a fucking living?"

An angry voice caused us to spin around to face its owner. A middle-aged man with dark brown hair was approaching us, his hands clenched into fists. The camera bags over his shoulder suggested he was one of the very people we'd been talking about.

Jake took a threatening step forward as he answered the man. "You shouldn't be allowed to harass people who are just trying to get from one place to another. You put them, and everyone around them, in danger."

"They're celebrities, and I'm a goddamn celebrity photographer. If they didn't want their pictures taken, they shouldn't've gone into the business," the man spat, coming to a stop only a few feet away from Jake. The out-of-shape guy wouldn't last a minute with any of the boys—or probably even Rosalie—but that fact didn't seem to bother him as he gave us a heated glare.

Emmett took a quick step to stand beside Jake, and the rest of us followed a second later. My own blood boiled in my veins as I leaned closer to the paparazzo.

"Being a photographer doesn't mean you get to do whatever the hell you want to people," I snarled. "Don't you have any decency?"

"Listen, _kid_ , this is the real world, where there are mortgages and grocery bills. I don't get paid unless I get good shots, and the only way to get the shots is to fight for them. It's hard enough as it is without bored college brats looking for random shit to get stirred up about. Why don't you go save the fucking polar bears or something? I'm not breaking any laws by being here, and I'm not gonna leave."

"Yeah, well, neither are we," Alice retorted. "So I guess you'll just have to get used to it."

"Or maybe we'll fight back," he said, lunging forward and bending down to get into her face.

I happened to notice the clicking sound of a camera's shutter and grabbed Jake's arm just in time to stop him from jumping the paparazzo.

"Don't!" I barked, sending a sharp look of warning to everyone else. "He's just trying to start something so his buddies can get pictures." I took a deep breath and pulled Jake backward. "Come on, guys, let's go."

Alice narrowed her eyes at the guy who was still only a handful of inches away from her. "You disgust me," she said with an angry sneer before spinning on her heel and marching away.

We pushed our way through the small crowd that had gathered and headed toward the exit. The dark-haired paparazzo that had confronted us followed behind, talking crap and spewing insults. A few of his counterparts snapped pictures as we walked.

"Too bad there isn't anyone to save _us_ ," Jasper commented wryly, stepping through the glass doors. "I guess all we can do is try to ignore it."

His suggestion was easier said than done, especially when two of the paps followed us into the parking garage. I was glad to have the guys along because, for the first time since the whole thing began, I felt concerned for our safety. It didn't help when I noticed the dark-haired pap taking pictures of Rosalie's and Alice's license plates.

But his parting shot worried me the most.

"You'd better knock this shit off, or you're gonna regret ever getting involved. I'll make sure of it!"

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

* * *

 **EPOV**

No matter how I craned my neck, I couldn't see anything but white and blue.

"This is the longest fucking flight ever," I muttered to myself, falling back against the leather seat.

Paul cracked open an eye for no other purpose than to roll it at me. "It's barely two and a half hours. Hell, it took us almost that long to get back from your parents last week when traffic sucked. Now shut up so I can take a nap."

"How can you possibly be tired? You slept half the time we were at Eric's."

"I party hard, I crash hard. You should try it once in a while. Maybe then you wouldn't be so stressed out."

I snorted at the idea. "Yeah, that'll do the trick. I'm sure you remember how much my parents yelled at _both_ of us two years ago when I got trashed at the VMA after-party. You know, when all the tabs started calling me an alcoholic? Good times, right there."

"Alright, maybe you've got a _small_ point," Paul grudgingly admitted. "But you need to figure something out. Meditation or Chinese herbs or whatever. I've got an app on my phone that's counting down the hours until I can shove a fucking Big Mac down your emaciated throat."

I had to laugh at that as I turned to look out the window again. Paul definitely had cause to complain after I sulked my way through our four-day trip to Colorado. Still in my hunger funk, I'd only gone out with the guys twice and acted like a dick both times. Of course, being a ski buff in a place like Aspen and not being able to hit the slopes for fear of injury would be torture for anyone, starving actor or otherwise. Just stepping outside and seeing all the snow I couldn't carve under a newly sharpened set of edges made me want to say "fuck it all" and risk breaking my weak-as-shit legs—and probably my neck—on a double diamond.

So instead, I watched a metric ass-ton of TV and screwed around on the internet. By day three at Eric's, I had gotten so bored I ended up Googling myself and trolling a few gossip sites. Sometimes, when the right mood struck, I found it fun to see the crazy shit people made up about me.

Almost all the latest items had something to do with the group unofficially dubbed the "Cullen Crusaders." It seemed that the identities of the six co-eds had finally been discovered, and everyone was digging into their personal lives to see if there was anything interesting to exploit.

I felt sort of hypocritical when I clicked on link after link to learn as much as possible about them. More page traffic meant more articles written, which meant more demand for photos…which meant more paparazzi attention. I knew as well as anyone how much that sucked. And based on what I read, the Cullen Crusaders were already experiencing that particular brand of fun.

Every major site had run a piece on their clash with Felix Carmichael, a shady paparazzo well-known in Hollywood circles for his uncanny ability to catch celebs at their worst. Anytime a major scandal broke, there was a hella good chance Felix had provided the damning photo evidence. Most A-listers I knew gave the guy a wide berth and refused to engage when he tried to piss them off. While it might have been satisfying to go head-to-head with the asshole, it wasn't worth the potential shitstorm he would later rain down on them.

I doubted the Crusaders had known that important piece of insider information, and they'd probably pay a price for their naiveté. In fact, I'd bet serious money that Felix had been the one to sniff out their names and push them to the gossip sites. If the headlines were correct, he'd flat-out declared war on the group, and based on his venomous expression in the pictures I saw, it was very likely those headlines got it dead right.

Staring absently at the puffy landscape of clouds outside the plane's window, I thought about the people rumored to be members of the group. Emmett, Alice, Jake, Rosalie, Jasper, and…Isabella. The brunette had become the tabs' favorite target because of how I'd helped her at LAX two weeks prior. Speculation about an affair ran rampant through the gossip channels, and the unfortunate girl was getting ripped apart because of it.

I hated when others were persecuted for no other reason than being associated with my name. When their lives were made worse because of me, I felt like a contagious disease or something—one that needed to be contained in a biohazard room where people wore suits to prevent accidental exposure.

But I had to admit, a few of the pictures they'd gotten of us gazing at each other looked pretty damned convincing. Our "connection" appeared so genuine that even Kate alluded to it during one of our phone conversations. Of course, she brought up the subject in that overly joking sort of way where you know the person's actually half-serious and trying to make a point.

I shouldn't have been surprised that she would worry about it, given her rather uptight personality. Kate's not an insecure person, but she does have control issues. Her parents, both big names in Hollywood, went through a very messy, very public divorce when she was a kid. Each used her as a pawn in their efforts to come out on top financially, but she was the one who ultimately lost the most. That's why I tried to cut her some slack when her more overbearing tendencies annoyed me.

She'd sounded placated after I reassured her about the circumstances surrounding the picture. We talked a few times since then, and she seemed to be over it. I wondered whether that would still be the case if the Crusaders happened to be at the airport when I arrived.

Oddly, for the first time in my career, a small part of me looked forward to the journey through the terminal. I didn't want to deal with the paps or see anyone hurt, but I sort of hoped the Crusaders would do their thing again. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the idea of the photogs getting beaten at their own game. They'd been a pain in my ass for years, and a little comeuppance seemed only fair.

I might also have been interested—just a teeny tiny bit, of course—to see the brunette in action again. There was one picture of her yelling at Felix that had caught my attention more than the others. In the image, she wore a scathing expression of anger on her face that somehow looked intimidating and cute at the same time. It fascinated me for some reason. I even wondered how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such spectacular pissed-off-ness.

Was the brunette the sort of person to get spun up over the small stuff like Kate did? My girlfriend gave me a lecture every time I put the stupid milk on the wrong shelf in the refrigerator. Yeah, I was sure it lasted longer when it was close to the cooling vent, but was it really something to freak out about?

I wondered if _Isabella_ would nag at me if I mishandled the milk. Did she care about that sort of thing? Or would she take it even further—maybe go nuclear and give me the same glare she'd aimed at Felix? Would she stomp up close so that she stood only inches away, shake her finger in my face, and fix her heated brown eyes on mine? Maybe there'd be a light sheen of sweat dusting over her smooth skin, and her chest would be heaving as she prepared to give me a tongue-lashing I'd never forget. I'd feel her breath slide over my own bare torso, and on her delicate features, I'd see that intriguingly passionate expression, the one so full of spirit and fire. It would make me want to shrink away as I begged for forgiveness even while I fought the urge to grab her waist, yank her body hard against mine, and then—

"Why the fuck are you over there wheezing like a lung cancer victim?" Paul grumbled, his eyes still closed. "Did your overinflated head cause a loss of cabin pressure or something?"

I jumped in my seat, startled from my reverie. My mouth dropped open as my mind scrambled to make sense of everything. Luckily, Paul didn't press me for a response, as I doubted I'd have been able to give a decent one.

What had just happened probably wasn't a big deal to a lot of people, but I'd never been the type to daydream or get lost in imagination. Strangely contrary to my success as an actor, I was more of a literal person who worked best with the concrete. Interpreting vague scripts skimpy on stage direction was not my thing. Hell, I could barely get myself off without the help of visual aids.

So why the fuck was I sporting a semi at the thought of a relatively unknown girl berating me over item placement in a refrigerator?

My brain had no idea what to do with that piece of information. I needed time to do some serious thinking, preferably sooner rather than later. But such time was not in my immediate future: the captain of the plane chose that moment to announce the start of our descent.

 _Dammit_.

"You're scowling," Paul commented as he dug a container of gum cubes out of his bag. "Do I even want to ask why?"

I stared out the window in dismay as land finally became visible under the cloud ceiling. Suddenly, I wasn't looking forward to the pap gauntlet at all.

"It's nothing important," I muttered, watching the city beneath us appear larger and larger through the clear plexiglass oval. "I was just thinking that this has been the shortest fucking flight ever."

* * *

 *** stage direction - may consist of scene and character descriptions, camera cues, sound cues, and various other bits of information needed to facilitate the action, ideas, and story line of the script**

 **I'm currently working on the next chapter of In Your Dreams, but it's going more slowly than I'd like. I'm hoping to post by the end of the week if RL cooperates!**

 **Thanks for reading! :^)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

"Is everyone okay?" I asked, looking over my battered but not beaten group of old friends and new.

"Oui, oui, mon capitaine," Emmett replied in a horrible French accent.

I returned his dramatic salute with my own one-fingered version. He laughed as he turned his ballcap backward and then patted his silvery gray hoodie.

"I can't wait to find out if these things made a difference. I hope so, because the fucktards out there today were ruthless."

I understood his sentiments perfectly. Whether Felix Carmichael had spoken to his fellow paparazzi or they made the decision on their own, we'd been on the receiving end of some purposefully rough jostling in our attempt to shield Halle Berry from the cameras' flashes. The actress, well-known for her successful effort to enact stricter penalties against child harassment by the paparazzi, gave us a winning smile and two thumbs up as she made her way to a VIP security checkpoint.

The numerous bruises we were sure to develop from flying elbows, swinging equipment, and stomping feet would be much easier to take if our new clothing helped screw up the paps' pictures. Along with the other five original Crusaders—I'd grudgingly accepted that the nickname wasn't going anywhere—I was sporting a Flashback brand hoodie and hat designed to reflect light back to its source. Alice's father had generously footed the rather expensive cost of the anti-pap gear, and we hoped to see some return on his investment.

The three UCLA girls—Kasey, Stephanie, and Cori—wore regular clothes, though I wondered if any of them could afford to buy the $200 hoodie if it turned out to be useful. Despite the combative atmosphere of the morning, they hadn't shied away from jumping into the thick of things. Steph had been particularly enthusiastic in her efforts and was now smiling broadly.

"They seemed pissed to see us there in addition to you guys," she said in a pleased voice. "I wonder how long it will take them to figure out we're not gonna back down."

Kasey nodded, her long blonde ponytail bouncing down her back. "No way in hell. If anything, we're just getting started. I know of at least two more people who want to be involved, if that's okay."

"Wow, uh, sure," I replied, not quite sure how I felt about the group getting so large. "That's fine."

"We should start a Facebook group or something," Jasper suggested. "And definitely a Twitter account."

Alice jumped on the idea immediately. "Perfect! We can put meetup times on a calendar so that people can confirm their appearance. With so many of us, a group will still be able to come out even if everyone can't make it." She smirked at Jake. "Oh, and just because we're bringing on more people through word-of-mouth, don't think you can get out of wearing that sandwich board."

Jake grinned and was about to reply when Rose made a sharp sound of surprise.

"What is it, babe?" Emmett asked, peering over her shoulder to see what she was looking at so intently on her phone.

"Someone just posted a _very_ interesting picture on Instagram," she announced. "Guess who got on a plane to LAX a few hours ago and should be landing any minute?"

"Oh! Is it Queen Bey?" Alice chirped, bouncing on her toes.

"Harrison Ford?" asked Jasper hopefully. "Or maybe Jennifer Lawrence?"

"Uh…the Pope?"

Rosalie sneered at Jake. "Not the Pope, you dumbass. Bella wouldn't be excited about leader of the Catholic Church. She might, however, be happy to see _this_ person…"

I stared at her in confusion, but everyone else figured out her meaning right away, even the UCLA girls.

"Edward Cullen is on his way here?" Cori breathed, her voice full of stunned reverence. "Oh my God…"

Jake let out a sound of annoyance, but the others found Cori's starstruck daze funny.

"Snap out of it, brat," Stephanie laughed, patting her friend's cheek. "We can't have you choking up in the middle of battle."

I barely heard the exchange; I was too busy trying to deal with a sudden case of nervous flutterings in my stomach. Although I'd tried my best over the past two weeks not to think about a certain devastatingly handsome actor, it was just about impossible with both the media and my friends throwing his name in my face all the time. I couldn't understand why they kept insisting he and I had shared a "moment." Our interaction had been brief and impersonal. He barely said a handful of words to me, and I mostly blinked a lot. It wasn't like the earth had stood still when we met or anything.

But there was the matter of that picture…

Yes, I might have glanced at it again once or twice since first seeing it. Maybe I'd even saved the image to both my phone and laptop. But I didn't think I had a realistic chance with such a guy. And, hell, maybe that was a good thing. Previous assistance to me aside, I knew nothing about his true personality. He could be a narcissistic asshole or something. There was also the pesky little fact that he already had girlfriend—one he'd been with for almost a year.

And yet...despite it all...I still had an overwhelming urge to run to the bathroom to see if I looked okay.

It made no sense.

"…just landed. We'll go with the same plan as before. Ready to do this, guys and gals?"

I glanced around to see everyone putting their hands in the center of the huddle they'd formed around me. With a nod of appreciation to Rose for noticing my distraction and taking charge, I joined my own hand with the others.

After our earlier scuffle with the paps, we'd relocated to a quiet corner of the terminal, so it took a few minutes for us to reach the exit point that most VIPs used. A large crowd of paparazzi was already present, and several more arrived as we took up a position outside of the throng.

One incoming photographer stopped in front of us and began clicking away. A few others took notice and moved away from the group to get shots of us.

"Wow, you kids are stupider than you look."

An unfortunately familiar voice caused my eyes to narrow in anger. I made a valiant attempt to rein in my expression before turning to face Felix Carmichael.

"I guess it was school that kept you away all week instead of good judgment," he continued, a dangerous smile on his lips. "I'm sorry I missed the fun a little while ago, but at least I got here in time for the main event." His dark eyes scanned over our group and settled on me. "Oh look, it's Edward's little 'something on the side.' Hello, _Isabella_. Are you happy that your borrowed guy is back in LA? You'd better make sure he covers his dick tonight. If he doesn't have a problem cheating on a hot piece of ass like Kate, I doubt he'll think twice before fucking around on _you_."

My mouth dropped open in astonishment at Felix's bullshit. "Are you seriously insane? How do you come up with stuff like that? Edward's not cheating on Kate with me. He's not doing _anything_ with me. I don't even know the guy!"

A hand closed around my upper arm and gently pulled me backward. "Don't waste your breath on this piece of shit," Rosalie spat, glaring at Felix. "He's not worth the effort."

"Rose is right," Jasper said to Jake, who had to be held back from rushing the paparazzo and mostly likely bashing his face in. "Ignore him. You know he's just trying to get a reaction out of us. Don't let him win."

Steph stepped forward as if she was about to add her two cents. However, she never got the chance to say anything because that's when shouting began.

We knew what that meant.

Edward Cullen had arrived.

Felix was forgotten as Jake and Emmett grabbed their riot shields. Alice pulled her hat down low on her head, and Jasper raised his Flashback hood. At Rose's command, all the Crusaders rushed into the frenzied mob with determined expressions on their faces.

All the Crusaders except me.

I hesitated at the fringe of the chaos, wondering if my presence would make the situation worse for Edward. The paps didn't need any more ammunition to use in their case for an affair between him and me. I hated the idea of being chased off but had to admit it would probably be best for me to sit this one out.

Felix had other plans.

I hadn't noticed he'd stayed behind until a shrill whistle pierced the air. Nearly everyone in the immediate area turned their attention our way, giving him the moment of opportunity he wanted.

"Isabella," he called out loudly, though he was crouched down taking pictures only a few feet in front of me, "Is it true Edward left town because of your fight over Kate? Did you really demand that he dump her?"

For the second time in a matter of minutes, I gaped at the unabashedly slimy son-of-a-bitch paparazzo. I knew, of course, that such lowlife people existed, but seeing his kind of behavior in person came as a shock. By the time I shook off my stupor and started to back away, it was too late.

Like some sort of gigantic cell undergoing mitosis, the shape of the paparazzi mass began to morph and pull apart. A large group of them broke off from the rest and surged toward me.

I tried to make eye contact with one of my friends, but the wall of photographers was too dense, and I was too short. It probably would have been best for me to stay put and wait for them to come to my rescue, but all the commotion was screwing with my brain. Men were yelling questions and comments—some of them sexually suggestive or just plain mean—flashes were going off in my eyes, and I felt distressingly hot from all the sweaty bodies pushing in on me.

Caught off-guard and feeling overwhelmed, my flight response kicked in. I had to get away from it all.

Oblivious to everything except the direction of the nearest exit, I shoved and pushed past several shouting paparazzi to find a clear path for my flight. Just as I broke free from the throng, a wayward camera was thrust in my face. I didn't have time to dodge its bulk and took a hard hit to the mouth.

Metallic-tasting blood gathered on my tongue, but I didn't take time to assess the damage. A big, beautiful set of sliding doors a short distance ahead marked my freedom, and I wasn't about to stop for anything.

Not even for the tall, running form of someone behind me or the crazed group that was chasing after it.

I felt both grateful and sorry for the poor woman who entered the terminal and triggered the sliding doors just before I reached them. She shrieked as I sprinted by without slowing and left her to face the stampede behind me.

My momentary rush of relief faded when I saw the only cab in sight drive off with its passengers. Sure, I'd changed my location, but the situation was exactly the same. In a handful of seconds, I would be surrounded once more.

Without warning, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me sideways. Although a raised hood obscured the person's face, I knew by the clothing it wasn't one of my friends. When I realized he was dragging me toward a waiting SUV, I struggled to regain my balance as my eyes sought out a security guard. Before I could yell out, however, my captor beat me to it.

"Paul!" he barked, glancing over his shoulder. "Get the fucking door!"

A pair of intense green eyes met mine.

Familiar green eyes.

I finally got my feet under me and yanked the person to a stop.

"You!" I gasped, then looked down in bemusement to the hand that was still wrapped around my wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded with a scowl.

As confused as I was about being kidnapped by a famous actor, I _really_ didn't understand the strange expression that suddenly appeared on Edward Cullen's handsome face. He seemed…dazed? My brow furrowed as I tried to figure him out.

"Yeah, Romeo, what the hell _are_ you doing?"

Edward's eyes snapped back in focus on a point over my shoulder after a large man purposefully elbowed him on the way to the black vehicle.

"Shit, here they come," Edward growled, shaking his head. He took a step toward the SUV's now open door and tugged on my arm. "You get in first."

I didn't budge, instead giving him the most incredulous look I'd produced all day, which was saying something. "You want me to climb into an unknown vehicle with a stranger? Are you freaking _crazy?_ "

He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at his hair with his free hand. "Yes, apparently I am. Now would you please get into the damned car before they mob us again?"

I turned back to the oncoming crowd, which was forcing its way around one hapless security guard and one very pissed off Emmett. A few of the other Crusaders were fighting their way to the front of the throng to help him out. But Felix managed to slip away before the reinforcements could arrive and ran toward me, his camera shutter working overtime.

"Did you two kiss and make up?" he shouted in a mocking voice. "Edward, did you leave Kate? Are you taking Isabella back to your place so you two can—"

"Fuck!" I hissed angrily under my breath. "I _hate_ that asshole."

I jerked my arm out of Edward's grip while grabbing his other hand, the one still buried in his hair.

"Well, don't just stand there," I muttered. "Come on!"

And then I got into the car, pulling him in behind me.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

* * *

 **Halle Berry really did champion an anti-paparazzi bill that was signed into California law in 2013. She was worried about the danger to children after constant harassment by the paparazzi. And the paparazzi groups present more of a danger than just cruel words. Fellow actor Jennifer Garner testified alongside Berry and brought up another concern. "There are violent, mentally-ill stalkers who can now get close to my kids by simply following mobs of photographers and blending in," she said. "Like the very man who threatened to cut the babies out of my belly. Who was arrested waiting behind our daughter's preschool, standing among the throng of paparazzi. That man is still in prison, but I have no doubt there are others like him still out there."**

 **Sorry I'm a bit late on this one, but I seem to be incapable of writing short chapters of 1000 words or less. Sigh.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

* * *

EPOV

"We're in!" I shouted to Thomas as Paul jumped into the front passenger seat. "Let's get outta here!"

With the first of the paparazzi only now reaching the rear bumper of the SUV, Thomas was able pull away from the curb without the worry of mowing anyone down—a rare occurrence. I'd never tried the "sprint like hell from the cameras" approach before, but it seemed like a winner to me. If only I wasn't close to passing out from weakness…

At least, that's what I assumed was happening to me when the world turned black for a few seconds and I had to grab onto the door handle to keep from keeling over onto the floor of the car.

"Whoa…crap—are you okay? Hey Huge Guy in front, a little help here?"

I was vaguely aware of a light tugging on my arm, like someone was trying to encourage me to sit upright. Then a large hand on my chest shoved my upper body against the seat back. My head bounced off the leather and then came to rest facing the girl.

"First off, call me Paul. As for this loser, he's fine. Just look at 'im sitting there, all breathing and having a pulse and stuff."

"I dunno…he seems kinda sick to me."

"Eh, nothing a good sandwich or ten wouldn't cure. _You_ on the other hand—"

By then, my vision had returned, and I was blinking at the brunette sitting to my left.

"Is that…?" I leaned in to get a better look at the bright red smear on the side of her mouth. "Shit, you're bleeding! Thomas, take us to the nearest ER!"

"Huh?" The girl swiped at her lips with the knuckle of her index finger. "Oh, right. I got smacked in the face by a camera, but it's not a big deal. A trip to the emergency room is definitely not necessary," she said with a laugh.

Having had more than one close and personal meeting with those stupid cameras over the years, I knew how much they could hurt, and the mouth was a sensitive area. "Are you sure you don't need stitches or something? Maybe you should get a professional opinion…"

"I'm pretty sure…" Her nose scrunched up a little as she spoke.

Without warning, she pushed out of her seat and leaned over the center console to reach for the passenger's sun visor.

"Well how do you do?" Paul sputtered out in cheerful surprise, scooting his bulk toward the window to give her more room.

The girl didn't comment as she flipped up the mirror covering and stuck out her lower lip. After examining the inside of her mouth to her apparent satisfaction, she returned the visor to its original position, gave Paul a quick pat of thanks on the shoulder, and sat back in her seat. I quickly dropped my eyes to my lap so she wouldn't think I'd been checking out her ass while she was bent over the console.

Because I hadn't been. Not even a little.

Well, maybe just a _little_.

"I'm Bella, by the way. And I was right. It's a small cut, nothing serious," she declared with finality. "Now, back to you—…dammit!" She scowled and reached into the back pocket of her jeans to pull out a vibrating phone. "'Scuse me a sec, but I'd better answer this. Hi, Alice…yes, I'm _fine_."

Alice. One of her Crusader friends, no doubt. I wondered if it was the tall blond girl or the short, dark-haired one. To be polite, I turned my head toward the side window, even though I was totally listening to every word she— _Bella_ —said.

"Oh crap, really?...Huh…Did Em get her away from him?...Thank goodness for Jasper. We need to give that boy a raise...I dunno, we haven't gotten around to discussing that yet. Lemme check…Excuse me, um, Edward?"

At the sound of my name, I looked over to find her raising an eyebrow at me.

"Besides the ER, where were you planning on dropping me off? I need to tell my friends so they can get me."

"Uhh…"

I couldn't say I'd ever come up with anything resembling a plan. When I first realized the Crusaders had made an appearance, my eyes automatically began searching for Bella. It wasn't a conscious decision to run after her when the mob swarmed. My legs just started moving, and they didn't stop as she made her dash for freedom.

I had no idea why I'd done something so completely rash and stupid. Maybe it was some sort of caveman response: Must Save Girl From Danger.

But then, I'd never felt an urge like that before. Usually when I was surrounded by paparazzi and all their crazy, my mind could barely focus on anything other than putting one foot in front of the other. I certainly didn't break away from my security, chase down a random girl, and then kidnap her in full view of the cameras.

The idiocy of what I'd just done was starting to sink in, and I had to fight back a groan. Christ, all I needed to do was run over someone's cat, and then my day would be complete.

Bella's amused voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"Yeeaah, I think I'm gonna have to get back to you on that. I'll shoot you a text in a few, okay?...Yeah, of course…What? _Alice!_ Jeez girl, I'm hanging up now. Love you, too, you pervy bitch."

She ended the call and returned her phone to her back pocket. Then she pursed her lips while eyeing me up and down.

"What?" I asked, resisting the urge to squirm under her pensive gaze.

"You still look kinda rough. No offense, but I think your bodyguard is right. You should eat something. Got any food in here?"

Paul barked out a short laugh, and even Thomas couldn't stop himself from snorting.

It wasn't the girl's fault, it really wasn't, but she just happened to lay the straw that broke the camel's back.

"Holy fuck, I am _so_ sick about people telling me to eat!" I roared, flinging my arms in the air. "Do you all think I _enjoy_ torturing myself like this? That I want to sit down to dry toast and egg whites when everyone else is hogging down their fucking sausage and hash browns and waffles all covered in goddamn maple syrup and shit? Do you think I like feeling weak and tired and pissy all day? 'Cuz guess what? I don't! But _excuse_ me for my sacrifice to cinematic art so that the rest of you can sit in your comfy little theater seats and be entertained as you lose yourselves in a scary realistic portrayal of a drug addict!"

By the time I finished my rant, which I instantly realized was self-absorbed, whiny, and just plain ridiculous, my chest was heaving, and the black vision spots were coming back. I felt light-headed and had the urge to take a long nap.

Shit. They were so right.

I really needed to eat something.

The inside of the car was dead quiet as I tried to figure out a way I could rewind the last minute of time and then staple my mouth shut. I wasn't looking at Paul and Thomas, but no doubt they were rolling their eyes in tired annoyance. Bella stared with a strange expression on her face, like she couldn't decide whether to pity me or do some Edward-mouth-stapling of her own.

But then something completely unexpected happened.

She giggled.

She fucking giggled and shook her head at me.

"Oh my God, you're just like Jake. Ever see those Snickers commercials? You know, the ones with Betty White playing football and Aretha Franklin being a diva and all…'You're not you when you're hungry?' Yeah, that's _so_ you and Jake."

I frowned. While she was dead on about the hungry part, I didn't like being compared to this _Jake_ person. I wondered if he was the same Jake from her Crusader group. Then I wondered if _Jake_ was her boyfriend.

Then I wondered why I was wondering about a boyfriend at all.

"Hey…Thomas, was it?" Bella said, tapping the back of his seat. "Where exactly are you going right now?"

As I knew he would, the middle-aged man glanced at Paul before looking at her in his rearview mirror. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to ask Mr. Cullen or Mr. Lahote that information."

Paul turned in his seat and grinned at Bella. "And that's why the car service always sends Thomas to drive for us. The man's tighter than Fort Knox when it comes to celeb secrets."

I made an exasperated sound. "Oh please. It wasn't a secret. We _were_ headed to my house in Beverly Hills, but obviously we'll need to take a detour now." I took a deep breath and tried to hear my thoughts over the rumble of my stomach. "What about you…were you going straight back to USC, or…?"

Her eyes widened. "You know where I go to school?"

I felt my cheeks get uncharacteristically warm as I raced to come up with an explanation that didn't sound either egotistic or stalkerish. I didn't want to admit that I'd been reading articles about myself to learn more about the Crusaders. But how else would I explain knowing a detail like that?

To my unending amazement, Paul actually covered for me.

"It's standard procedure for our PR company to give me media briefs for security reasons," he said in his 'professional' voice. "Seeing as how they call you the _Cullen_ Crusaders, I've been paying attention when you show up in the news." He shrugged. "It's been out there for a few days that you all are students at USC."

"Stupid, nosey journalists," she muttered. "And they're not right about that anymore."

"About what?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing important," she sighed, then gave me a small smile. "Anyway, back to the original issue. If you live in Beverly Hills, it'd be out of your way to swing by USC. How 'bout you take the next exit we come to and drop me off at a gas station or restaurant or something. My friends'll get me there."

"I'm not just gonna 'drop you off' at some random place," I huffed. "We'll wait there until your friends come, or we can go ahead and take you back to school. It's really not a problem."

"Shit," Paul hissed, peering hard at his side-view mirror. "Actually, it might be a problem. I recognize the piece of crap car behind us. It's that group of paps who chased you around in Newport Beach last month."

I glanced out the rear window and groaned at the sight. The four men in the car had stalked me the entire time I stayed at my parents' for the holidays. If I dared to leave the house, they followed me everywhere I went, taking pictures and filming. The assholes even tailed my dad to the hospital and my mom to the grocery store a few times. The men weren't rude or anything, but their constant presence drove me nuts. I spent most of the ten days in Newport Beach watching movies and playing video games in my room. I didn't even go out for New Year's Eve.

It was kinda sad, actually.

"Here's the deal," I said to Bella, who was looking at me with a sympathetic expression on her face. "If we stop anywhere, those guys are going to be all over us. Now, as much as I hate it, I'm used to this shit, and they're not going to get anything new from me. So I'm okay if you want to hang out at a gas station or let me take you to your place. But from what know…uh, I mean, from what Paul tells me…you haven't been followed back to school yet?"

She shook her head, her nose doing the cute scrunchy thing again as she considered what I was saying.

 _Cute?_ I wasn't sure where that unusual-for-me observation came from and decided to shelve the issue for later examination.

"Well," I continued, "I can pretty much guarantee they're gonna follow you no matter which of the two choices you pick. Then they'll find out where you live, hang out there, and annoy the hell out of you for a while. Trust me, it really sucks when they come to your house."

"But…?"

"But what?"

She leaned back against her seat and grinned. "You sounded smug, so I'm guessing you came up with a super-secret Choice Number Three that will solve all our problems."

"Uh, yeah…I did." There was a hint of surprise in my voice. I didn't realize I was so easy to read. "So...wanna hear it?"

Her smile got even bigger, and I found myself grinning, too.

"Lay it on me," she said, her eyes shining. "I'm always up for a good adventure."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

* * *

BPOV

I could hardly believe it.

When I woke up that morning, I never would've guessed I'd later be getting chased by the paparazzi while sitting in a car beside one very grumpy, very sick-looking, but still very gorgeous actor named Edward Cullen.

Yet there I was. It seemed so surreal.

If the situation hadn't unfolded the way it did, I probably would've been all starstruck and awkward. But there was no opportunity for that. First I'd been pissed off that an almost-complete stranger was yanking me around like some sort of mid-priced possession—one you hated to leave behind but didn't care if it got beat up a little in transit. I'd honestly considered kneeing him in the nuts when he wouldn't let go of my arm. But he seemed so frustrated and desperate for me to get in the vehicle that I practically felt compelled to humor him.

Plus, I really did want to escape Felix and his swarming colleagues.

Once inside the SUV, I might again have been dazed by the situation. But almost immediately, Edward near blacked out and then tried to go DEFCON 1 over the little cut in my mouth. I had to reassure the poor guy that everything was fine and that I wasn't bleeding to death. By that point, I was more amused by my predicament than anxious about it.

Who knew that pseudo medical emergencies could be great icebreakers?

If I'd had any lingering nervousness about being in close proximity to such a famous celebrity, it was instantly burned up in his Little Boy nuclear tirade—one apparently triggered by my innocent suggestion that he eat something. Normally, I would've gone ballistic if someone lit into me so unfairly. I wasn't one to stand by and take shit like that without fighting back. But I just wasn't able to work up much anger over his silly rant, what with him looking all pale and gaunt and really, really hungry. He reminded me of a grouchy bear waking up after a long winter hibernation…except for the dark fur part, of course. With his wan complexion, Edward wasn't the least bit dark.

He wasn't all furry, either. Thank goodness.

Though not a fan of the sunken-in cheeks, thin frame, and dark circles under his eyes, I couldn't deny my attraction to the man. I always found him hot, but somehow, he was even more beautiful up close. His hair looked soft and was the most interesting shade of reddish-goldish-brown. Sexy, really. I loved how the top was a little longer and fell over his forehead. It was just the right length where you could bury your hands in it, grab two nice fistfuls, and then hold on for dear life as you pounded yourself up and down onto his…

Damn.

I blamed Felix for putting such images in my head. Alice hadn't helped either.

After calling to make sure I wasn't being hacked up into a million pieces, the pervy pixie had to go and suggest I make the most of my "big adventure." She also pointed out the rather long period of time since my last good romp in the sack and told me not to let an opportunity slip by.

Right, as if something like that was going to happen with one half of an established couple in a moving SUV with two random guys a few feet away. I wasn't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but I had _some_ standards.

Still, I couldn't help having a little fun at my private expense when I urged Edward to "lay" his idea on me, telling him I was "always up for a good adventure." Of course, for that to work, _he_ would have to be the one who was up...and he might have to keep it up a while with all the things I wanted to do to him…

Double damn.

Maybe I was perfectly slutty all on my own.

Edward's return smile was full of warmth, which made me feel even more guilty about my gutter-worthy thoughts. Poor guy had to deal with that kind of crap from so many other sources. He certainly didn't need it from someone he was trying to help out.

"…in Beverly Park, which is a gated community," he was saying. "If you're not in a huge hurry to get back, we could continue on to my place and then switch out to Paul's car. We'll go in the South gate and leave from the North one. I've used that trick a few times before with the paps, and it's always worked."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That sounds great and is really nice of you, but…are you sure? I mean, that's a lot of extra work for you, and it's totally okay to just drop me off and go—"

"Not. Gonna. Happen." His voice sounded as intense as those stunning green eyes that were trained on me. "I'm not going to leave you alone with those guys. Period. Now, moving on from _that_ closed subject, what do you want to do? Have your friends get you while I wait, let me take you back directly, or switch out cars at my house?" One corner of his mouth turned up. "Though if we keep debating it, we'll be in Beverly Hills by the time you decide."

"As long as you're sure," I said, then pulled out my phone again. "I just need to let my friends know so they don't send out a search party."

Alice picked up on the first ring, answering in an overly enthusiastic voice. "Hey, girl, that was quick! I hope you got yours, too. Just don't tell me he's a two-pump chump—all my fantasies will be ruined!"

"Would you _stop_?" I hissed, turning toward the window and hoping to hell Edward couldn't hear any of this. "Now listen up, because the situation's changed. We're being tailed by the paps, and Edward thinks they'll follow me back to the apartment. The plan is to go to his place and change cars so that—"

"Oh my God, you're going to his house?" she shrieked. "That's so unbelievably epic I can't even… _hey! Gimme that back, you idiot!_ "

"Bella?"

Great. Apparently _someone_ had stolen the phone from Alice. And against my better judgment, I didn't hang up right away.

"What do you want, Jake?" I sighed.

"I _want_ to know what the hell is wrong with you today!" he barked into my ear. "Are you trying to do every stupid thing in the book or something?"

"The paps are assholes, what can I say? That's why we started protesting in the first place. Anyway, Edward's offer makes sense. He lives in a gated community, so they won't be able to follow us, and then we'll switch cars. Yeah, it'll take me a little longer to get back. What's the big deal? It's not like I had any major plans tonight."

"It's not safe! We don't know anything about this guy. There might be something to all those stories about him cheating on his girlfriend, and I don't want him pressuring you into—"

"Good lord, what is _with_ you people? I'm not going to have sex with him, okay? Would you just…"

I trailed off as I realized what had come out of my mouth at a _very_ loud volume. Groaning, I let my forehead thud against the side window as Paul snickered shamelessly in the background.

Jake went on babbling about something I paid no attention to; I was too busy wondering how badly it would hurt if I escaped further humiliation by jumping out of the car onto the freeway.

Probably a lot.

A tap on my shoulder roused me from the morbid musings. I grudgingly turned my head to see Edward's outstretched hand.

"Do you mind?" he asked, nodding to my phone.

A little dazed and a lot confused, I handed him the device. He raised it to his ear while staring at me with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Hello, Jake? This is Edward Cullen. I appreciate your concern, but Bella is perfectly safe with me. My only goal is to make sure she gets home without incident."

He spoke in a calm yet firm manner that was completely opposite his earlier tirade of angst. It made me wonder what the actor was normally like when not in hungry bear mode. It made me want to find out.

"Yes, I understand, but I think she's capable of deciding that on her own. Don't you?"

I could hear Jake's insistent buzzing coming through the phone's ear speaker but wasn't able to make out any words. Though it wasn't hard for me to guess what sort of things he was saying.

"She is, but I really can't see how that's any of your business," Edward continued into the phone, his words having gained a slight edge. "Kate has nothing to do with me taking Bella home."

I was going to _kill_ Jake. Slowly and painfully. There would be blood and guts everywhere. _Everywhere_.

"She'll get back to campus when she gets back. Tell you what. I'll give her my contact information. It's up to her whether she chooses to share it with you. Now, unless you have anything else to get off your chest…good. It was a pleasure talking to you, _Jake_."

Edward handed the phone back to me, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips. Mortified at the whole situation, I snatched it out of his hand and faced the window again.

"Jacob William Black, you'd better run and hide, because the next part of me you're gonna see is my foot coming to kick your ass."

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Bells!" Jake all but whined. "That guy could be—"

"I'll take my chances," I growled. "And I meant what I said about hiding. It'd probably be best if you go over to Em and Rose's apartment and stay there for the night. I don't want to sit in the same room as you right now, much less sleep in it."

"But—"

"Good- _bye_ , Jake."

I mashed my finger down on the screen to end the call and tried to calm my angry, pissed-off self. It took a while for me to get my temper—and embarrassment—under control. The interior of the car was silent as I stared blindly out the window at the vehicles passing on the opposite side of the 405.

Edward was the one to speak first.

"Bella, I think I owe you an apology—more than one, actually," he said in a low, sincere voice. "I'm sorry if I caused problems between you and your boyfriend. I shouldn't have overstepped like I did."

I whipped around to gape at him. "I don't have a boyfriend, and if I did, it would _not_ be Jake. I'm starting to get the feeling he might want to be, but we're just good friends. Nothing else."

Edward's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you sleep in the same bed?"

"Huh? No! I mean, there are four of us in a two-bedroom apartment, so he and I share a room, but we have our own beds. On opposite sides of the room. Very own beds, very opposite sides."

I wasn't sure why I felt the need to make that clear, but I couldn't stand the idea of Edward thinking I was with Jake. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Oh." The strange look on his face remained. "Well, uh, I'm sorry for any trouble, regardless. And I apologize for unloading on you earlier…you know, about the eating thing." He lifted a hand to that sexy reddish-goldish-brown hair of his and raked his fingers through the strands. "I start filming the week after next, so this is sorta the home stretch of the diet crap. And you're right. I _do_ need to eat something. I'll grab a snack at my place before we take you to school."

"You're actually gonna ride back with me?" I asked, surprised. "I mean, it's nice hanging with you, but don't you have, like, important actor stuff to do?"

He laughed. The sound was low and husky, and I liked it. A lot.

"I wish," he replied. "The only things going on for me right now are avoiding the kitchen and reading through my script for the twentieth time. But it's boring as hell running lines by myself, and Paul always splits when I ask him to help."

"That's because I'm not gonna play your lover; it creeps me out," Paul grunted. "Besides, you always want me to talk in a girly voice, and that shit's not something I do."

"But you sound so cuuute when you read Jessi's lines," Edward teased. "' _Damien, I love you so much, but you're killing yourself! I can't…I_ won't _stay and watch you do this any longer._ '"

"Shut up, fuckface. Sounds like you've got it down, anyway." A pause. "If you're so worried, why don't you see if Bella here will help out. You can eat your wilted spinach leaves and go through a few scenes before she heads back. Who knows? Maybe it'll even take your mind off the hydrochloric acid that's currently burning its way through your stomach lining."

Edward turned to me before I could clear my face of its shocked expression. There was a grin on his lips and mischief in his eyes.

"What do you say, Bella? Wanna be my lover?"

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

* * *

"So, uh, yeah. That's pretty much it."

I couldn't believe how anxious I felt to find out what was going through her mind. Bella had been strangely quiet as I took her on a tour through my four-bedroom Mediterranean-style house. She'd murmured a few positive comments about the kitchen, let out a sigh in the master bathroom, and broke into laughter when we stepped into my ridiculously large walk-in closet. I think she said something about Alice and how her friend would kill for that many shelves.

I'm not sure why I saved the master bedroom for last, but we were now standing at its open French doors and looking down into the pool. Bella rested her elbows on the wrought-iron railing and sighed again.

Was that a good sigh or a bad sigh?

Crap.

"So, um, this is one of the smaller houses in Beverly Park, but I live by myself, you know?" I said, stumbling over my words a little. "I really didn't want more space than this. Hell, six thousand square feet is too much as it is, but that's just how things are around here. Size, uh, matters, I guess. Anyway…I wanted to live in Beverly Park for its security, and I like how this house has high walls to help you feel like you're isolated from the rest of the world. I mean, sure, it'd be great to have a bigger yard with more grass and trees and stuff…um, there was a really nice place on Durham Road that I looked at, but I couldn't justify shelling out an extra four million for more green stuff. Maybe I should have...do you think? It did have an amazing view of the city…"

"I want the room in the corner," she murmured in a wistful voice, propping her chin on her hand.

Confused by the possible non sequitur, I lifted my gaze from the pool to glance at Bella. She had a dreamy smile on her face, and her eyes seemed glazed over. I wondered if she'd heard any of my rambling. I sorta hoped not.

"The room in the corner?"

"Yeah, you know, the empty one with the little balcony. I'd love to sit out there and read all day, maybe catch a nap in the sun." She tilted her head to the side to look at me, her mouth curved up in a playful grin. "Since you're not using it, can I have it? Such a shame to let a wonderful space like that go to waste."

I chuckled. "Sure, why not. And as you're moving in, maybe you can find people to take the other rooms in the house I don't use. The media room, the wine room, the office. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever used the dining room, either." Feeling some of my tension ease, I leaned against the door jamb and crossed one ankle over the other. "So I guess you don't hate the house?"

Her eyes widened. "Hate it? Are you crazy? It's gorgeous! The theme of the dark hardwood floors against all the creams and beiges is perfect for you…classy yet warm. And that curving staircase? I _love_ it. The kitchen is absolutely gigantic; there's so much counter space!" She let out a small giggle. "You should see when Jasper and I cook a meal together. The kitchen's so small we're constantly dodging elbows and trying not to step on each other."

"Is he one of the four people in your apartment?" I asked, frowning. "How come _he_ doesn't room with Jake?" I added under my breath.

"Because Alice is the fourth person, and—unlike me and Jake—she and Jasper actually _do_ share a bed."

"Oh," I muttered, pissed at myself for saying that last part out loud.

"You sound disappointed." Bella raised an eyebrow and gave me a pointed look. "Is there a reason you're so concerned about Jake's sleeping arrangements? If it's because you're interested in him, I hate to tell you he doesn't swing that way." She regarded me thoughtfully. "Though I suppose if anyone could turn a straight man gay, it would be you."

"I am _not_ interested in Jake!" I sputtered, blanching at the thought. "And I'm not gay, either. Hello, I have a girlfriend."

Bella shrugged. "She could be your beard for all I know. You wouldn't be the first Hollywood actor to stay in the closet for rep's sake."

I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was being serious or just messing with me again. Her impassive features gave nothing away. She unflinchingly held my gaze, not moving a muscle, until I had to concede victory to her.

"You don't really think that, right?" I asked, folding my arms in front of my chest and pouting just a little. "You're trying to get me worked up."

Her stoic expression crumbled as she began to laugh. "But it's so easy to do! Can you blame me?"

"You're nuts," I said, shaking my head and smiling. "Completely out there in left field. Makes sense, though. Only a mind as screwy as yours could come up with the insane idea of fighting back against the paparazzi."

"Hey, that was a stroke of genius, and you know it." After kicking at my foot with the toe of her shoe, she stood up and mimicked my position against the door jamb opposite me. "So far, there's been an obvious reduction in the number of pap photos posted online when we're involved. And we know it's because a lot of their shots get ruined. Jasper monitors an underground photographer's community forum; he's seen posts about it. Besides, if we weren't making a difference, people like Felix wouldn't be so pissed off. I know it's impossible to stop them from taking pictures, but that's not what we want, anyway. It's more about making a statement about how the paparazzi constantly cross lines without repercussion when it comes to privacy, physical and emotional aggression, and just plain ol' human decency."

Her voice had become more passionate as she spoke, and that fascinating spark shone in her eyes again. I couldn't help being impressed on so many levels. Bella sounded intelligent and well-spoken without being stuffy, and I could tell she wasn't trying to sell me a load of bullshit to make herself look good. She was as genuine a person as I'd ever met, uncomplicated and sincere.

I was also surprised by how easily she showed her more serious side. One second we were teasing each other, the next, she was speaking earnestly about something important to her. No awkward shift in the way she acted, just a smooth move from one facet of her personality to another.

Easy.

It seemed everything was easy for her—and _with_ her. Unlike much of the past month, I felt relaxed and content. I was having fun. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I smiled so much. I didn't think I'd smiled so much _ever_.

The significance of that phenomenon was not lost on me. Nor was the fact that I was maybe sorta kinda flirting with her. I just...couldn't seem to help myself.

And that worried me. I wasn't used to feeling so confused.

When Bella had called Alice to let her know the change in plans, I could tell by her embarrassed reaction that her friend was making suggestive remarks. Though being seen as a sexual object wasn't usually a good thing in my book, it didn't seem to bother me when it came to Bella. Hell, earlier that afternoon on the plane, my subconscious committed the same crime regarding her.

And then came her unexpected announcement. I was pretty much floored when she blurted out that she wasn't going to have sex with me. Talk about getting hit by a barrage of contrasting emotions.

Even before she'd finished speaking, even before my brain could figure out what the hell she was talking about, my other "head" zeroed in on its favorite word and decided to get ready...just in case. I almost groaned out loud from the rush of desire I experienced. But surprise and panic immediately followed the redirection of my body's blood supply; I didn't want to be caught showing wood by anyone in the car—especially Paul, who would never let me hear the end of it.

But when the more logical head caught up a second later and actually processed her statement, well, I felt the strangest stab of disappointment. Bella had sounded pretty damned insistent about sex _not_ being in the cards for us.

Suddenly, I was very... _not_ happy.

And that was the moment I realized just how attracted I was to her.

Cue the guilt.

I'd never screwed around on Kate or the two girlfriends I'd had before her, and I didn't plan on starting. Not that I was even _thinking_ of starting, it was just that…

It was just…

Shit.

I had no idea what it was, other than really, _really_ confusing.

Things only went downhill from there. First, I got pissed at Jake for upsetting Bella, then tried to outdo him in both the jealousy and possessiveness departments. But when he implied that he and Bella were a couple and made a not-so-subtle reference to Kate, I got served a second helping of guilt and a side of shame to go along with it.

I cared about Kate, I really did. We had good times together and got along well enough. Sure, she could be a little high maintenance and sensitive sometimes, but I knew I wasn't perfect, either.

We'd met on the set of the first _Code Name_ movie and hit it off as friends pretty fast. While filming the second one, we got closer and began hanging out more outside of the studio. Rumors about us popped up months before we went on our first real date, though I guess the early attention wasn't all bad. It helped make the public aspect of our relationship a little easier once she and I had The Talk and declared ourselves boyfriend/girlfriend.

Kate was the one who wanted the official label. Like me, she didn't do casual dating or one night stands. Unlike me, however, she had a history of being screwed over by people who were supposed to care about her. When it came to relationships, she was wary about getting hurt and needed some sort of assurance that I wasn't just dicking around with her feelings.

Taking the next step wasn't hard for me. I liked her, we got along okay, and the sex was good. Being in the business herself, she understood my on-off schedule and knew there'd be long stretches of us being in different places. Our separate lives worked well together.

We worked well together.

And when it came to a relationship, what more could I possibly need?

I'd gotten so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize I was staring at Bella until she called me on it.

"What? Do I have something on my face? Is my lip bleeding again?"

When I didn't answer right away, she scowled and hurried into my bathroom.

Sighing quietly, I scrubbed a hand across my face and then shook my head. It seemed that if I wasn't being a Neanderthal around Bella, then I was either gaping at her like an idiot or trying to figure out why the gaping and the Neanderthal-ing were happening in the first place—all while blissing out on a weirdly happy feeling.

I didn't know how or why, but there was only one conclusion I could make: the girl had my number.

I knew that, before I did anything really stupid, I needed to put some distance between us. I needed time and space to sort out my fucked up head. I needed to solve the mystery of Bella and her brain-scrambling effect on me.

If only I hadn't _already_ done something really stupid…

I'd have loved to put all the blame on Paul for making the suggestion, but there were plenty of scenes in the movie Bella and I could've run that didn't include the character Jessi. No, _I_ was the masochistic moron who had to go and ask her to read the part of my very passionate love interest.

That brilliant move was all fucking mine.

Maybe there was still hope. Maybe she'd forget about it, and I could just have Paul take her home. I'd pretend to remember some "important actor stuff" I couldn't put off. That way, she wouldn't feel bad about me not going back with her like I said I would. Or, I could always pull the weak and tired card. She knew the diet was messing with my body. I could use that as my excuse.

With my thoughts so completely tangled in knots, I wasn't able to decide on a plan by the time Bella emerged from the bathroom.

"The lip's fine, there's nothing stuck in my teeth, and the makeup I'm not wearing isn't smeared." She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at me. "Were you holding a staring contest without telling me? Just so you know, that's the only way you'll ever win if you go against me. I've only come across one person who can out-bitch-stare me, and that's Rose. Girl's scary as fuck."

And just like that, I was laughing again without a care in the world.

"So," she continued, "are you ready to impress me with your superb acting ability? It's getting close to dinner, and since my corner room's not ready, I need to head back to campus soon."

There it was. The perfect opportunity. I'd tell her how tired I felt and that I needed to get the just-remembered-important-actor-stuff done before I went to sleep. We'd exchange a friendly goodbye, Paul would drive her home, and I'd forget about her. Life would go back to normal.

"Yep, I'm ready," I answered, smiling like the idiot I was. "Let me go get the screenplay."

* * *

 **First it was 500, then 1000, and now my chapters are over 2k, sigh. The thing about the longer chapters is that I can't keep up with posting 3x/week. My other WIPs are crying for attention, sniff, sniff.**

 **So, my plan is to post M and Th from now on. If I don't hear that shorter, more frequent chapters are preferred, I'll assume that's okay. :^)**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

* * *

When Edward Cullen—multimillionaire, Golden Globe winner, and _People Magazine_ 's Sexiest Man Alive—stared at me with _those_ green eyes, gave me one of _those_ crooked grins, and asked me to be his lover, I did the only thing possible in a situation like that.

I nonchalantly shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well, if you insist…"

Although my insides were twisting in excitement and porn-worthy scenes featuring the two of us started flashing in my head, I was determined to at least _pretend_ to have some dignity.

Of course, that subterfuge went out the window when he gave me a tour of his house. I'd never been in such a nice place. Alice's family was well-off and lived in an exclusive neighborhood, but Beverly Park took luxury to a whole other level. Feeling something like an Alice in Wonderland, I followed Edward through all the perfectly furnished rooms and appreciated his house for what it was: part of a lifestyle very different from my own.

That didn't mean I felt deprived in any way, however. Each of my divorced parents made a modest living and had always provided me with basics. I had no cause for complaint. But living in five million dollar houses with pools and media rooms and cleaning services was not something I understood.

Another thing I didn't understand?

How I'd gotten lucky enough to be sitting on a comfy leather couch in the bedroom of one of those five million dollar houses and helping Edward Cullen run his lines.

"J-Jessica. My name's Jessica."

"I don't like it." Edward slowly raked his eyes over my body. His leering gaze settled on my chest. "Jessi's better. _That's_ your name…right, babe?"

I glanced down at the stapled sheets of paper in my hand before answering. "Um, sure. Jessi."

"Well, _Jessi_ , how old are you?"

"I'm…eighteen."

He smirked. "Perfect. Now get in the car before we're late to the party."

" _Jessi hesitates and then climbs into the limo to sit beside Damien. The door closes, and the limo drives away."_ I looked at Edward, who lay sprawled out over his bed. "Alright, that scene's done. Which one next?"

"Hmm." He pushed off his stomach and maneuvered into a sitting position on the edge of the mattress. "Lemme think. As I remember, the next few scenes with just our characters don't have a lot of dialogue." He paused. "They're mostly, uh, action."

We both dropped our gazes to the floor at the same time as an awkward silence grew between us. I bit my lip to keep from telling him that I'd be more than willing to help with the "action" parts, too.

"Oh, I got it!" Edward hopped off the bed and made his way toward the couch. "There's a good scene about halfway through, after Damien and Jessi have been together for, like, eight months…" Edward dropped onto the cushion beside me, plucked the screenplay out of my hand, and started flipping through the pages. "She's living with him now. Didn't start college like she'd planned, lost her old friends, isn't talking to her parents. Meanwhile, Damien's getting deeper in and letting the band fall apart…ah, here it is!"

We were sitting shoulder to shoulder, his thigh pressing against mine. I tried to ignore my racing heartbeat as I looked to where he was pointing on the page. The words were just coming into focus when he yanked the screenplay away and held it out to the side.

"Wait a sec," he said, scowling playfully. "Before you read anything else, I want to hear again that you won't spill a single detail of the movie to anyone, not even your friends. Promise? It's my ass on the line, and I'm putting it in your hands." His eyes widened at the Freudian slip. "Not _it_. My trust! I'm trusting you with my ass...er, I'm trusting you not to fuck me over...aw, shit." He huffed. "You know what I'm trying to say."

I chuckled at his adorably frustrated expression. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. But really, you already made me swear on the possession of my corner room that I wouldn't say anything. You know how serious I am about that. Now gimme the damned script, and let's get on with it."

I leaned across his body to snatch the pages out of his hand. Only after my breasts mashed into his chest did I realize it might not have been the most appropriate move to make. I scrambled back into my seat as fast I could and pretended to be absorbed in reading over my part.

Edward didn't say anything about what I'd done, though he did inch to the side just enough that only our elbows still touched. He nodded at the screenplay.

"So, as the slug line says, this scene is indoors at my condo, and it's late evening."

I scanned the first set of stage directions. "You're lying on the couch in the living room, and I'm…hey, watch it!"

I scooted off the couch just in time to dodge Edward's long legs as they stretched out over the cushions.

"Um, excuse you?"

"What?" he purred innocently, crossing his arms behind his head. "I'm just getting into character."

"Yeah, well, I hope _my_ character smacks the crap out of yours in this scene," I grumbled. Annoyance was the only defense I had against a horizontal Edward.

"Read on," he snickered. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."

Shaking my head, I walked toward the bathroom. "Guess I might as well go through the motions, too."

" _Jessi enters the apartment and slams the front door behind her._ " I swung the heavy bathroom door closed and whirled around to glare at Edward. "Who was it this time, Damien? Was it Michelle? Or Gloria? Sadie?"

"What the fuck are you talking about? Did you get high before you came over or something?"

"I don't know; you tell me. Did I just _hallucinate_ seeing some bitch climb out of our bedroom window carrying half her clothes in her hands?" Following the stage directions, I stomped closer to the couch.

Edward groaned and flung his arms over his eyes. "Shit, nothing happened, babe. Just calm the fuck down. Go smoke some dope or whatever, and get off my back. Jamie's coming over later with some clean rigs, okay? You 'n me'll can get loaded and then—"

"I'm pregnant."

Edward jerked upright and gaped at me. The terror on his face looked so genuine that I wanted to rush to his side and hug him close. He was good.

"You can't be," he whispered, his skin actually turning pale. "You can't be pregnant, you got a shot. I was there when they did it." Anger seeped into his voice. "You got a goddamned shot, Jessi! How the fuck did this happen?"

The stage directions called for Edward to throw a beer bottle at me. He mimed the action. Obviously, I was glad we weren't running a dress rehearsal.

"Fuck, Damien! You almost hit me!" I moved forward until I stood only a few feet in front of Edward. "Look, the doc said that hardly anyone gets pregnant on the shot, but every once in a while, shit happens. Well, guess what? Shit just happened. To me. To…to us."

Edward leaned over his knees and grabbed his hair with his hands. I sat down on the couch as far away from him as I could get.

"What the hell are we gonna do with a baby?" he muttered.

"I, uh, talked to the doctor about…options. I was thinking maybe I should go and, you know, get it taken care of."

"Get what taken care of? What are you talking about?"

I frowned at the screenplay, wondering why Jessi wasn't slapping Damien upside the head at that point. Had I been her, I totally would have.

"The…baby. I could get rid of it."

"Get rid of…the baby?" Edward slowly raised his head to blink at me. "You want to get rid of…o _ur_ _baby_?"

"What else can I do? We can't take care of a baby, dammit! Half the time we can barely take care of ourselves. You wanna bring a kid into this, into our fucked up lives?" I was supposed to start crying, but hell if that was going to happen. Edward was the actor, not me. "I dropped acid two days ago, Damien. Two fucking days! I could've already...the baby could already...fuck, what if I screwed it up? And even if it's okay now, how am I gonna get clean—and stay clean—when I'm around you and the guys all the time? I think…I think it's for the best. It's the only thing that makes sense…"

I'd barely lowered the pages to glance at Edward when his flashing eyes appeared close in front of me. My breath caught at his sudden proximity. Meeting my dazed stare, he grabbed my shoulders firmly, but not roughly.

"No! You're talking about our _child_. It's ours, babe. You 'n me. We can't kill something that's part of _us_. I want it, this kid. I want to do this. And we can, you know." Edward let his hands slide down my arms until he could take hold of mine. His thumbs stroked soft patterns over the tops of my fingers. "We'll do rehab right away. I'll talk to the guys and move some shit around. The band's not important right now. Neither is the tour. The only thing that's important is our kid….and you." He released one of my hands to cradle my jaw in his palm. "I love you, Jessi. I love you and our baby so damned much."

His head had been moving slowly forward as he talked, and now his lips were only inches away from mine. I could practically taste his warmth on my tongue. There was probably some line I was supposed to say, but Edward had nudged the script out of my hands when he grasped them. My brain wasn't capable of processing words at that moment, anyway. It barely had a handle on vital things like, say, breathing.

God, I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. My lips quivered to press against his, to learn their touch, their taste. I knew there were reasons I shouldn't, important reasons, but nothing was coming to mind. Nothing except the connection of our hands and his palm sliding to the back of my neck and his fingers in my hair and the fluttering of my stomach and the ache between my legs.

Nothing except the ringing of Edward's phone in his pocket.

He jerked his hands away and sat back, staring at me in apparent shock. I returned his stare, probably wearing the same stunned expression, plus maybe a few splotches of red hot embarrassment.

Neither of us moved a muscle for a long minute as we tried to make sense of it all. But when his phone stopped ringing, the sudden silence jolted us from our stupor.

"Shit, Bella, I—"

"Oh my God, I'm so—"

His phone rang again. Insistent.

"Um, maybe you'd better get that," I said with a nervous chuckle. "Sounds like someone really wants to talk to you."

"I, uh...yeah. Thanks."

He took the phone from the back of his jeans and looked at the screen. I caught the quickest flash of a grimace before his face smoothed.

"Hey, what's up?" he greeted, standing and walking toward the still-open French doors. Before he could get farther than a few steps, however, his body jerked to a stop. "Whoa, slow down. I can't understand you. Can you take a deep breath? Good, that's my girl. Now how about another?"

He stopped talking, presumably because the person on the other end of the call had calmed down enough to speak. I fidgeted on the couch, wondering if I should leave the room to give him some privacy.

"Oh _no_ , babe, I'm so sorry….Yeah, I'll head over there right away. Does your mom need me to bring anything?...Okay. When will your flight get in?...Of course I'll stay….I'll see you tomorrow, then...Uh, yeah, me too. Bye."

Edward ran a hand through his hair and sighed before turning around to face me.

"That was my…that was Kate. Her dad—well, stepfather, actually—just had a heart attack, and her mom's not dealing well. She can't get here 'til morning, so I told her I'd go to the hospital in Malibu and stay with her mom." His eyes dropped to the floor by my feet. "I should get over there as soon as possible, so I can't, um…Paul will have to drive you home. I'm really sorry."

"Why're you sorry? There's no reason for it," I told him earnestly. "You've been great to me all day, and now you're off to help someone else out. That's so amazing of you." I gave him a small smile. "You're a good man, Charlie Brown."

His return smile was weak and pained.

Paul had been watching TV in the media room. It only took a few minutes to explain what happened and walk out to the driveway where the car was parked. Edward stepped forward to open the front passenger side door but paused before pulling on the handle. He turned to look at me, opened his mouth, then shut it again as his brow creased.

I reached out to touch his arm for just a moment. "Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate everything you did for me. And I hope Kate's dad isn't too bad off and that he gets better soon."

"Yeah. And same to you. I mean, thanks for helping with the…um…"

"Sure," I said quickly, not wanting to get into the subject of his screenplay. I gestured to the still-closed door. "I really should get going, so…"

"Oh, right!" Edward yanked the door open and moved to the side so that I could climb into the seat.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but I had a feeling it would be best for us both to forget about whatever almost did or didn't happen in his bedroom. I smiled one more time before grabbing the door and pulling it shut myself.

Edward didn't move from his spot as Paul drove away from the house.

He was still standing there when we turned the corner and disappeared from view.

* * *

 **'Tis the season for a flu epidemic in my house. Oh joy.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

* * *

EPOV

"Ten thousand if you can smuggle in a cheeseburger, no questions asked."

"Are you kidding? That'll barely cover my funeral costs. Caskets aren't cheap these days, and I want a good one."

Bradley Frederick Wellington, III, raised a bushy eyebrow at me. "Come on, now. My Kate wouldn't hurt a fly."

I chuckled at his indignant expression. "If you have another heart attack because of fast food I snuck into the hospital, I wouldn't put anything past her." My joking tone became more serious. "You know she'd do anything for you."

Brad smiled fondly. "She's a sweetheart, alright."

Although the older man had been her stepfather for only two years, he and Kate had a stronger relationship than she ever had with her natural parents. I'd never met her dad, Richard, but Kate described him as an "aloof bastard." Her mom, on the other hand, was one of those phony people who acted overly nice to your face but wouldn't hesitate to stab you in the back if it suited her shallow purposes.

I didn't get how a nice guy like Brad could marry such an insincere, well, _bitch_. Granted, she doted on him constantly and had a lot going for her in the arm candy department, but still…I'd had more than my fill of Karla's grating personality the first time we'd met. I couldn't imagine actually living with the woman.

Shudder.

I'd been granted a short reprieve when she left to get coffee, but all too soon she returned, breezing into Brad's private hospital room carrying a cardboard tray of drinks.

"What an ordeal!" she exclaimed in dramatic fashion, alighting on one of the cushioned chairs beside his bed. "The Starbucks downstairs was closed—can you believe it? I had to drive _fifteen_ minutes to find another one. And now there's only a half hour left before visiting hours are over." She shook her head in disgust. "Completely unacceptable."

Brad and I exchanged a covert smile. To Karla, a lot of things were "unacceptable."

She handed me an espresso before focusing on her husband. "Dear, I know you're not a fan of herbal tea, but you need to get used to living without caffeine. I asked the Starbucks people to make it weak and without sugar. I tell you, those idiots couldn't get _anything_ right, but after I made them do it over three times, they got their act together. It should be okay now. Here you go, darling!"

Brad forced a pained smile and thanked her before raising the cup to his lips. I wondered if he actually took a sip or was planning to throw the whole thing out after we left.

Karla controlled the conversation, chattering on about this and that, until it was time to say goodbye for the night. I stepped into the hallway to give the two of them a minute of privacy before walking Karla to the parking deck. Her face was streaked with tears, and her voice shook as she poured out her soul to me.

"…most _horrible_ experience of my life. I was so scared for my dear Brad. His absolutely useless secretary didn't call me until after he'd arrived at the hospital, and by the time I got here, the doctors were already sticking that little balloon thing in him. Of course, I had to deal with the most incompetent staff members who wouldn't tell me _anything_! Unacceptable. I'm going to file a complaint first thing tomorrow. Oh Edward, I was simply out of my mind with worry…"

Trying to keep the grimace off my face, I mumbled a few words in the appropriate places and pretended that I was paying attention. When we reached her car, she once again attempted to persuade me to stay overnight at her house, and I once again declined as politely as possible. I'd rather take my chances running into paparazzi at a hotel than spend one more minute listening to her incessant bitching.

Luckily, I was able to slip into my suite without being bothered by anyone, paparazzi or otherwise. My legs feeling leaden, I dragged myself straight to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It had been one of the longest, most tiring days I'd had in a long time. I could hardly believe I'd been in Colorado just that morning.

So much had happened since then, and I still hadn't figured out why I kept getting stuck on thoughts of... _her_. The drive from Beverly Hills to Malibu had given me some time to think, but I didn't make much headway on the issue. To be honest, I was probably worse off than before. Whenever I tried to go over the day's events, my mind jumped straight from seeing Bella at the airport to seeing her on my bedroom couch, her deep brown eyes wide but willing as I moved my lips closer to hers.

And in response, my dick jumped, too. I spent most of the forty-five minute drive with a raging hard-on.

Not fun, to say the least. Or comfortable.

I wanted to blame the initial reaction on killer acting skills—that I was caught up in my part and only tried to kiss her because the screenplay told me I should—but I couldn't fool myself into believing such unimaginative bullshit. Besides, a scripted action wouldn't explain the boner that now sprang into existence as I lay thinking of Bella in a Malibu hotel room.

Groaning at the ache, I rolled onto my stomach and fought the desire to molest my throbbing cock. What the hell was wrong with me? Brad was recovering from a heart attack and facing possible bypass surgery. And in less than twelve hours, I would meet Kate—my _real_ girlfriend—at the hospital to give her all the support and encouragement she needed.

Yet there I was, fighting the urge to beat off over thoughts of a different girl, one that I barely knew.

Crazy. That's what it was.

Or maybe it was what I _had_. Some form of temporary insanity. A brief bout of crazy brought on by hunger and boredom.

While not the best situation, at least it was a reasonable explanation for my behavior. And since nothing unforgiveable had happened with… _her_ , I would put it all behind me and instead focus on being there for Kate, surviving the next week, and then throwing myself into the filming process.

Everything would go back to normal.

At least, that's what I'd hoped.

But when a crying Kate flung herself into my arms the next morning, I knew that there would be no going back to the old "normal." Her distress affected me, for sure, but all my concern fell purely on a platonic level. Although her entire body pressed up against me, there was no sense of attraction on my part.

That lack of that feeling had nothing to do with the somber setting or her physical appearance. Despite how rough she looked—her eyes were puffy and ringed with smudged mascara, her nose was red, her complexion splotched pink—she was still a stunningly beautiful woman, no question about it. But I just didn't feel that pull of desire anymore. To be honest, even when I had, it wasn't nearly as strong as what I felt toward Bella.

All of these alarming realizations hit me at once and took me by surprise, causing my arms to stiffen awkwardly around Kate. She must have thought I was squeezing her tighter, however, because she buried her face into my chest and sighed.

"Thanks for coming last night. It was such a relief knowing you were here with Dad…and, uh, with Mom, too."

"Of course," I said hesitantly, not really trusting myself to blurt out something stupid concerning Karla.

"Tell me the truth, though. How many times did you feel like throttling her?"

Though Kate's face was hidden, I could hear the smile in her voice. She wasn't her mom's biggest fan, either. I snorted sardonically in reply.

"Come on," she said, taking a step back and intertwining her fingers with mine. "I need to see my dad."

Kate had a very emotional reunion with her frail-looking stepfather. I tried not to stare at his hunched-over figure and abnormally pale color, but to me, Brad actually seemed worse than the previous night. I wondered if it would be rude to ask him about it.

Karla arrived a half hour into Kate's visit. She started nagging her daughter right away, making disparaging comments that were thinly veiled under the guise of a mother's concern. I had to bite my tongue several times to keep from telling her off. It wasn't my place to interfere, even though I could practically see Kate wilting and becoming smaller under the force of her mom's disapproval. Thankfully, Brad put an end to it before I lost my temper.

The two women and I were supposed to go out for lunch together, but I just couldn't spend another minute with Karla. Citing the very real headache I had, I begged off in order to rest in my hotel suite. Kate acted like she wanted to pull something similar, but Karla guilted her into going out. I felt like an ass when Kate shot me a desperate look as I hurried to my car—but not enough to change my mind.

My intention was to dive into bed and make up for my lack of sleep the previous night, but that plan was shot to hell when Cecil, my manager, called. I'd been ignoring his numerous attempts to contact me ever since the pictures of my stunt with Bella hit the web, but I had to face the music at some point.

Getting yelled at by him was still a better deal than putting up with Karla.

I probably should've cared about what he was saying—after all, he was only looking out for my best interests—but his voice registered as no more than an easily ignored hum in my ear. So what if the tabloids had Bella and me secretly married off with a love child on the way? They'd published much worse with far less proof. I didn't give a damn about what they said or what anyone else thought.

Except maybe Bella, though she seemed like she could handle herself.

And also Kate, who most certainly _would_ be affected, especially since I had to end things with her.

Oh God, I was going to end things with her.

" _Fuck_ ," I groaned. What shitty timing for such an epiphany.

"Exactly!" Cecil exclaimed, not realizing I wasn't talking to him. "I'm glad you finally understand what a dumbass thing you did. Seriously, what the hell were you thinking running off after that girl and then pulling her into your car? My phone's been ringing nonstop since eight last night. You made me miss my tee time at Pebble Beach."

"Gee, my heart breaks for your sacrifice," I said dryly. "If the job is too much for you, I can always look for a new manager."

"I'll get over it," he muttered in reply. "No need to bring out the threats."

"Glad we worked that out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nap while you get back to earning your ridiculously high salary."

"Yeah, whatever. Enjoy your sleep. Maybe being unconscious will keep you out of the headlines."

The bastard hung up on me before I could call him a few choice names. I huffed in annoyance. Between the attitude he and Paul gave me, I sometimes wondered who was the employer and who were the employees.

Back in my room, I quickly stripped and climbed into bed. It was barely noon, and I was already looking forward to the day being over. Kate had no definite plans on when she would return to New York, but I was only staying in Malibu another night. With work starting in a week, I had to get my head in the right place to give a convincing performance. I needed to have some peace and quiet, and that was impossible around Karla.

As much as I hated to admit it, I had to get away from Kate, too. Giving her a shoulder to lean on was one thing, but I wasn't willing to pretend that my feelings hadn't changed. That wouldn't be fair to either of us. But I wasn't such a jerk that I'd break up with her right after her stepdad had a heart attack. Avoidance seemed the least asshole-ish way to go in this no-win situation.

After I set the phone ringer to vibrate, I pulled up the covers and settled myself on the king-sized mattress. Because my stomach had shrunk so much, the small protein shake I'd just had was enough to shut up its rumbling. The pounding in my head had dulled thanks to a few Advil, so my body, other than being weak and exhausted, felt relatively okay for once. Yawning deeply, I closed my eyes and was soon asleep.

The bedside clock read 3:28 p.m. when the persistent buzzing of my phone woke me up. A quick glance at the screen showed me I'd missed four calls over the past hour.

All of them were from Kate.

She picked up on the first ring. Even before she spoke, I could tell something was very wrong.

"It's Dad," she sobbed. "We were sitting there talking to him, and then he turned really pale…grabbed his chest…the nurses came running...he's in surgery, something about a rupture in his heart…valve replacement…so scared…"

The longer she went on, the less I could understand.

"Kate, take it easy, okay? I don't want you hyperventilating or anything. Is your mom there?"

"She's here…I mean, we're together, but she's in a hospital bed. They had to give her something; she was so upset…" Kate's shallow breaths came faster than ever.

I scrambled out of bed and grabbed my jeans off chair where I'd tossed them. "Listen to me, Kate, you _need_ to take some deep breaths. Is there a nurse or someone nearby that can help…"

"I'll be fine…I'm okay…I just need to…if I could…oh, God, Edward!" she cried. "I need you here. I need you so much."

My chest tightened over how frightened and lost she sounded. I didn't hesitate at all before answering.

"I'm on my way. Just hang on. We're gonna get through this, no matter what."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for all the well wishes. It's been a hell of a week, but I think the worst is over…just in time for Christmas!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

* * *

 ** _Furious Kate Charges to LA, Stakes Her Claim on Edward_**

 ** _Isabella and Crusaders Absent from LAX; Paparazzi Swarm Kate_**

 ** _Kate's Dying Dad Begs Edward: Drop the Affair for My Sake_**

 ** _Edward Spotted at Universal Pictures while Kate Remains in Malibu_**

* * *

 **BPOV**

"Damn it, Alice," I shouted through the open door to my bedroom. "Stop sending me these stupid links! I told you I don't care about the crap they're writing."

Shaking my head, I minimized Outlook on my laptop and returned to my psychology seminar's assigned reading. The article on the evolution of cognition was interesting but also weighted with research studies that needed more than a cursory glance to understand. I'd barely read through the abstract when Alice breezed into the room. She flopped down on Jake's unmade bed and waited for me to acknowledge her presence.

For a moment, I thought about ignoring her but quickly gave up on that idea. Experience had taught me that she could be annoyingly persistent when something was on her mind. Resigned to my fate, I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.

"You're braver than me to touch those sheets," I commented dryly. "I've caught him jerking off on that bed more than once."

"Oh, I bet he wanted you to help," she said with a giggle, apparently not caring that she might be lying on dried jizz stains. "Or did you jump right in on your own?"

"How doth thou gross me out? Let me count the ways," I muttered. "So, I'm assuming there's a point to this pleasant visit. Care to share in five minutes or less so I can get back to my mountain of homework?"

Alice swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and sat up to look at me, a serious expression on her face. "Okay, here's the deal. You know how Rose and Em are planning to live together after they graduate? Well, even though Jasper and I still have our senior year to get through, we've been doing some talking, and it's clear to us that you need to call Edward Cullen."

I blinked a few times, wondering if I'd somehow missed a chunk of the conversation.

"Uh…what?"

"You need to call Edward," she repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"So the part about you and Jasper and living together…?"

"Completely irrelevant," she said, waving her hand in dismissal. "It's been over a week since you saw him, which is way past the 'I'm a desperate loser' critical time period for calling someone. So get to it. If you're feeling generous, you can let me listen in."

I laid my folded arms over the desk and buried my head in them. "You know, sometimes I really regret telling you people anything."

I had to give my friends _some_ details after Paul returned to me campus last Saturday, but I was in such a stupor from spending the afternoon with Edward that I might have spilled a little more than necessary. In my defense, however, Jake had been the one to let slip the part about Edward giving me his contact info.

"Come on, he wouldn't've put his digits in your hot little hands if he didn't want you to use them," Alice pointed out.

I turned my head to the side to look at her. "I dunno, maybe he was just following up on his promise to Jake—which he made only because Mr. Possessive was acting stupid about my safety. It's not like he took the extra 30 seconds he'd need to get _my_ number in return." My voice sounded like it had some weird mumble-whine-pout thing going on.

"He could've been distracted by the emergency…or maybe he didn't want to come on too strong. Who knows? Certainly not you if you don't call him. You can even send a text. Just… _something_ to let him know you're interested."

"Um, hello? Are you forgetting about that small detail called Kate the Girlfriend?" I groaned in exasperation and hid my head in my arms again. "I can't go after a taken guy, even if—well, you know—I want to. It's just not right."

"Okay, fine. Be all moral and don't try to steal him under her nose. Whatever. But at least text the guy so he has a way to get in touch with you if he ever becomes _un_ -taken. It might happen sooner than you think. I've been studying pictures of those two, and I just don't see the love."

"Really, Alice?" I wadded up a scrap piece of paper and chucked it at her. "You should know better, especially considering our current extracurricular activity of pap ball-busting. _No_ couple's going to look all lovey-dovey when people are swarming them and shoving cameras in their faces. And before you say anything..." I saw the look on her face and held up a hand to cut her off. "Random spy shots are pretty much worthless, too. You know I love you, but if someone took a picture of us right now, they'd get me looking like I want to beat the snot out of you with a moderately firm pillow, possibly even a rolled-up magazine—the gossip variety, of course."

"Damn. I hate it when you act all rational and crap," Alice groused. She got up from Jake's bed, crossed the room, and stretched out on mine. "I swear, I'm not trying to give you grief for no reason. But I saw how happy you were when you came back from his place. I thought I would have to tie a sandbag to your feet to keep you from floating away. And it wasn't just because you were dazzled by the fact that he's a gorgeous, rich celebrity. Bella Swan is way too practical to become star-struck, so I know that light in your eyes was because of something else. I mean, I've _never_ seen you look that way before. It was intense. You owe it to yourself to find out if you could have more with him."

"Aaaaand once again, we come back to Kate…"

"Oh my God, it's just a text! It's not like you're gonna yank the boy off the street, throw him in a car, and make him spend the day with you…oh, wait. That sounds awfully familiar, hmm? Besides, if their relationship is so great, nothing should make a difference in them being together. Now stop being a pussy and just do it already!"

"Gah!" I shrieked, covering my ears. "You know how much I hate that word."

"That's right; you're a pussy. A big 'ol fat pussy. Heeeere pussy, pussy, pussy—"

"Ah, stop! I'll think about it, okay? Just stop already!"

"Glad you're finally coming to your senses." She grinned evilly and heaved herself off the bed. "I'll leave you to your reading now, but if I don't get an update by Friday, I'm having the rest of the team throw you to the paps this weekend."

"For the record, I hate you," I growled as she sauntered to the door.

"And I love you, too…pussy."

"Bitch!" I yelled, throwing a highlighter at her.

She ducked easily and slipped into the hallway, laughter following in her wake.

"That word…ugh!" I said with a shudder. It seriously squicked me out for some reason.

I sat back in my chair and considered what Alice had said—though it wasn't like I hadn't thought about it before. In fact, that's pretty much all I did the day after Escape(thePaps)Gate. The Crusaders didn't go to LAX like we usually did on a Sunday because Emmett and Jake were busy. Alice had something going on, too, but it was really the loss of our two huge boys that caused us to skip out. Yes, the fact that we might run into Kate had a teeny bit to do with the decision. But that was mostly my issue, and I had no problem being benched for the day.

Ah, Kate.

I wasn't the type of person to have a grudge against a person I didn't know, but…yeah. I _really_ wished she wasn't in the picture. I felt sure he'd given out at least a few signs of interest. Maybe Edward Cullen was the smooth kind of guy that could put the moves on any and every girl he met, but I honestly didn't get that vibe from him. In the short time I'd spent with him, his behavior ran the spectrum from dangerously suave to boyishly awkward. Most of the time, however, he seemed like a regular, down-to-earth kind of guy—aside from the ridiculous abundance of good looks and wealth—who was just trying to make his way through life without too much of a fuss.

And I thought he kinda maybe sorta liked me a little bit.

I'd had a good time with him. Really good. He was easy to talk to, and we'd shared plenty of laughs. While he displayed a more prickly side of him on occasion, I made the judgment that, overall, he was an even-keeled kind of person who didn't get riled up by much. My usual behavior tended to be heavy on snark, and he'd handled it like a champ.

Of course, next to Paul, I'd probably be considered a blushing schoolgirl.

However, I _did_ think I'd picked up on a subtle shade of dissatisfaction in his general tone…or maybe it was wistfulness? I couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it seemed to me that all was not copacetic in the world of Edward Cullen. I felt as if some secret desire or urge lurked under the surface of his movie star persona that wanted to break free and let loose. As if, despite all he had in life, there was something missing—a something _more_ that would truly light him up on the inside.

But then, what the hell did I know?

Yeah, I was getting my degree in Psychology, but it was only a Bachelor's. It would be ridiculous to think I could figure out the guy's head in a couple hours of casual interaction. On top of that, he was getting ready for an intense role playing a starving artist of the addicted variety. He'd admitted to acting a little out of character because of his constant hunger. All my observations could be completely off-base because of that.

So, maybe the connection I thought we'd shared wasn't really genuine at all. Maybe he was totally happy in his uber-wealthy little world, with his ginormous house he hardly made use of and the security gate and the high walls and the gorgeous celebrity girlfriend who spent a lot of time on the other side of the continent. And maybe, just maybe…

Ugh.

I thumped my forehead on my desk. All the internal debate was driving me nuts. I wasn't normally so wishy-washy and fixated about things, but then, anything having to do with Edward Cullen could hardly be considered normal, no matter how much of a "regular guy" he seemed. Doubt and longing had plagued me all week, and I did _not_ like the slew of downer thoughts and emotions I'd been having.

Alice was right. I was being a p—…a pu—…aw, dammit, I was being a p-word.

Clenching my jaw in determination, I reached for my phone and called up the contact list. Edward's info was saved under the name "Damien." I was no dummy. I knew there were chicks out there who would kill to have his cell phone number. And if one of those bitches managed to take me out someday, the hell if I'd give them the satisfaction of a payoff.

I quickly typed out a message, then set the phone down to stare at the screen before sending it. For a long minute, I debated deleting the words to write something else—something funnier or more clever or just…better. But in the end, I huffed at my idiocy, mashed my finger on the button, and listened to the whoosh of my first draft, unedited message being sent.

And then...I waited.

* * *

 **I'm going through a bit of a rough period, but I'm trying to update as much I can. For those following my other WIPs, next up is a chapter of The Fence. I also want to say thank you to all those who leave reviews. They really help boost my writing confidence when doubts overwhelm me. Rachel xxoo**


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